


The Soul Gatherer's Secret

by Life_Is_A_Spell_So_Exquisite



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017), The Worst Witch Series - Jill Murphy
Genre: Adventure, Apprenticeship, Bit of Wild Teen Angst, Family, Friendship, Growing Up Isn't Easy - Doesn't Anyone Know Why, Hecate Hardbroom - Also Most Put-Upon Living Potioneer, Hecate Hardbroom - Greatest Living Potioneer, How Do I Tag Thee?, Kids Who Love Good Books, Kids Who Love History, Kids Who Love Inventing, Limbo, Magic, Mildly Scary Moments, More Than One Realm, Nightmares, Self-Discovery, Sisterhood, Supernatural Entities - Characters, The Surface, The Underworld, Witches To The Rescue, Witching School, Witching Teachers, mild danger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 20:20:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 55
Words: 83,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21694759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Life_Is_A_Spell_So_Exquisite/pseuds/Life_Is_A_Spell_So_Exquisite
Summary: Mildred Hubble is in her second year at Cackle's Academy and has survived the dangerous schemes of Agatha Cackle - the Headmistress's malevolent twin - and her coven twice already (S01 and S02 spoilers). When a wizard from Agatha's coven strikes again, no one could ever have forseen who would come to the rescue - and what new adventures it would bring to Mildred and all who love her!An adventure story of friendship, family, self-discovery, sisterhood and bringing light to dark magic.Book One - Surfacing (Chapters 1-14)Book Two - Shifting Ties (Chapters 14-30)Book Three - Expanding Horizons (Chapters 31+)Greatest love and respect to the original queen of fiction - Jill Murphy - who taught this kid to love magic, reading, small tabby cats who aren't good at catching mice and made being the tall, gangly odd-one-out so sweet it became a franchise.
Comments: 53
Kudos: 76





	1. Prologue

_A tall, pale, dark-haired woman dons a long black travelling cape and black, pointed hat decisively while addressing a younger woman in turquoise sports’ robes._

“- and, don’t forget, the kitchen staff will be on leave from seven thirty this evening. Please ensure my pupil is kept meaningfully occupied, and out of trouble. She’s to be in bed by nine thirty, her mother will-”

“I still want to come with you!” blurted out a young teenage girl loudly, from where she had been sitting surreptitiously, halfway up the staircase.

Her tutor turned from where she was giving instruction and looked up, giving the girl a fixed stare for daring to eavesdrop. The girl’s comment had come out as a shout and she knew immediately that it was the wrong thing to have said. With a single motion, the girl found herself transferred through her tutor’s spell to her own room.

The girl flung herself down on her bed and glared at the sloped ceiling. She did not, as a general rule, dislike anyone, but she hated to be excluded, or treated as too young to understand. It was so alien to her, after the existence she had known _before_.

Life before Hecate, thought the girl, snorting. She rolled herself into a more comfortable position in the late morning light and thought back to many months before...


	2. November (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cascade of magic brought forth by the wizard and his six dark, hairy, gargoyle-like beasts held the pupils and teachers of Cackle’s Academy trapped in the assembly hall.
> 
> Trouble is bubbling and brewing in Cackle's Academy once more, but there's a new heroine in town - and she comes with a flying board and a crew of other-worldly mottleys.

_A cascade of magic brought forth by the wizard and his six dark, hairy, gargoyle-like beasts held the pupils and teachers of Cackle’s Academy trapped in the assembly hall._

The beasts snarled and gnashed their teeth, but could find no way through the protective charm that Miss Hardbroom, Miss Cackle, and the other teachers held around the girls.

“Pity you weren’t like Marigold. I might have been disposed to leniency. But never you, Ada Cackle – worshipper of Hellebore and The Code. You _will_ give in,” said the dark wizard, Nox.

“Let the girls go, and I will not contest you,” said Miss Cackle, her outstretched arms holding the protective spell in place.

Nox’s manner was aloof, cold, as though all trace of kindness had been scraped from his character. He was not going to give up, the teachers and the girls could see that. The thin bubble of protective magic around the girls was shrinking slowly.

“I have no interest in heroics, I _will_ avenge her.”

“Miss Cackle,” said Mildred urgently, her face flushed, “what can we do to help?”

“Mildred-” said Miss Cackle quietly, sharing a look with Miss Hardbroom.

“You don’t know, do you…?” Mildred whispered, tears pricking her eyes.

Neither of the senior witches could answer her. They were struggling to hold the beasts away; every ounce of their strength was being used. Miss Bat, who was much older and frailer, suddenly sank to the ground, exhausted.

“I’m so sorry, Ada,” she whispered, before her eyes closed and she was unconscious. Her fall distracted Mr Rowan-Webb, her lifelong love, and the bubble shrank even more.

“Help us, please, somebody!” cried Mildred, more to herself than to anyone present.

After a few moments an eerie hush fell on the hall and, suddenly, there was an almighty, resounding crash of shattering glass and splintering wood. One of the tall windows, which Nox himself had sealed, burst and something dark and hunched shot in and dropped to the floor behind the wizard.

The hunched thing straightened up and stepped away from what seemed to be a polished wooden board – very much, Mildred wildly thought, like a snowboard – and lowered the hood of the long grey travelling cloak it wore.

It wasn’t an “it” at all, Mildred saw, as the pale face of a teenage girl with very dark hazel eyes and long dark dreadlocked hair gazed around the room. The face seemed a little puzzled, as if it were not at all used to the surroundings.

“What magic is this?” cried Nox, turning and pointing his staff at the newcomer.

The beasts stopped their snarling and bobbed up and down, batting their scaly wings, as they looked hungrily at the girl.

“It’s earlier than I expected,” muttered the girl, thoughtfully, “or perhaps later,” she added, as though this afterthought was given grudgingly.

“Who are you, what are you!” cried Nox again, advancing on the newcomer.

“Ah,” said the girl, noticing the assembled company. “Wizard Nox? Ivan Kerdaridge sends his regards,” added the girl, seeing Nox for the first time, and giving him a short bow.

Nox stopped his advance abruptly.

“Kerdaridge has been dead for years!” he cried, but he almost sounded uncertain.

“Oh, quite right,” said the girl, taking the longbow she carried from her shoulder and lying it and her arrows on the floor carefully.

“Who are you?” Nox asked again, unsteadily.

“Someone who heard the truth,” replied the girl, straightening up and unhooking her long cloak and letting it drop to the floor, where it disintegrated into a cloud of smoke. She wore oddly earthy clothes underneath – bear skin boots, a mid-sleeve tunic and tight-fitting leggings. “From the corpse’s mouth, so to speak,” she added.

“Impossible, he’d have died long before you were born.”

“July the 5th, 1965,” agreed the girl, pulling off long, knitted, fingerless gloves and dropping them to dissolve into the floor as she did. “It was a Monday, from memory.”

“But – you are just a girl,” said Nox, erratically.

“There’s no such thing,” said the girl confidently.

“But, let’s talk about Kerdaridge, shall we?” she added meaningfully, looking at Nox.

She had a sword tucked into the thick leather belt around her waist.

“It was an accident,” Nox found himself saying.

“But you left,” said the girl.

There was no anger in the girl’s voice, and for the life of her, Mildred could not work out what the girl’s business was with Nox.

“That wasn’t how things were supposed to happen, I didn’t know he’d be there,” pleaded Nox.

“He was a boy,” said the girl solemnly.

“And so was I! I- I-,” said Nox falteringly, before he was distracted.

The bubble around the Cackle’s girls grew even smaller when Miss Drill suddenly dropped to her knees in a dead faint of exhaustion.

“Dimitty!” cried Miss Cackle, full of concern.

“I’m sorry, Ada,” croaked Algernon Rowan-Webb, his knees giving way too, as he fell to the ground, taking great gasping breaths.

“How much longer can you hold it?” asked one of the older girls, rushing to stand next to Miss Hardbroom and bracing herself to engage in the spell too.

“Don’t you dare, Esmerelda, you’re too young!” gasped Miss Cackle.

“I see you have company, Mr Nox,” said the strange girl again.

“This is none of your concern, whoever you are,” said Nox, appearing to have recovered himself. “Leave, or join their death.”

“Join Death?” said the girl, a little smile flitting to her lips, “that could be problematic,” said the girl, clasping her hands behind her back and pointing her chin upwards as though the thought tickled her.

“What?” snapped Nox.

Behind him, unseen, Miss Hardbroom inclined her head at Miss Cackle as if to say ‘ _who is she?_ ’ and Miss Cackle replied with a helpless shrug.

“I am promised already,” she said lightly. “Neither Life nor Death can have me. I belong to the Soul Gatherer.”

“That’s not possible,” said Nox, going from pink to pale to red to purple in a rush.

“Precisely _what_ are you willing to bet?” said the girl, leaning towards him.

“Help us!” cried Mildred, “please!”

“It’s against The Code,” said Nox triumphantly.

“What Code?” asked the girl, a new smile playing on her features.

“The – Witches’ –” whispered Nox, because his attention was caught by the ringing of powerful magic, by the new, charged, pressure rising in the air, and by the fact that every piece of furniture not within the Cackle’s protective charm was rising in the air.

“What are you going to do?” Mildred whispered audibly.

“I’m sure we’ll think of something,” said the girl grimly, before giving Mildred a cunning smile as she pulled the sword from her belt and held it above her head in both hands – the hilt to the sky – and brought it crashing through the pressured air into the floor of the school hall.

The effect was tremendous. The sword clanged like a bell and a cleft appeared where the blade had struck. The cleft grew, creaking through the old wooden floor, and from the fissure came a yellow light. The light flickered for a moment and a shape appeared there: a scruffy young man, around seventeen years old, dressed in poorhouse garb, climbed out onto the floor and dusted himself down.

“How do, Morgyn,” he said pleasantly, doffing his cap to the girl with the sword. “The others are a’coming.”

“Three,” said the girl called Morgyn, with relief.

From the great rift in the floor another head appeared. It was another young man, around twenty-one this time, dressed in a sailor’s white uniform from the 1920s. He leapt out onto the floor and straightened his jacket.

“Bit of a mess,” he said casually, looking at the girl.

“Two,” said the girl, with a welcoming smile.

A third figure struggled out of the ground with a little more effort and straightened up. This man was around thirty-five years old and wore a curious outfit from the early 1600s.

“I’m glad you could make it, One,” said Morgyn, pulling the sword from the ground with an effort and closing the rift.

The floor returned, and there was no indication that there had ever been a crack in the fabric of space or time, and the furniture landed with a deep “thump” on the floor once more.

“The old man isn’t going to be pleased about this,” said One, brushing down his ruffled sleeves. “What makes this Gathering so special, Morgyn?” he added, looking at Morgyn questioningly.

“Not now, One,” said Morgyn, looking uncomfortable for the first time.

The three newcomers turned and cast their eyes over the room.

“He’s nothing special,” said Three placidly, looking at Nox, “and it’s not time yet.”

“But this place…?” said Two, looking at One and Three in confusion.

“This time,” said One; he turned and gave Morgyn a sharp look. “Why did you summon us to _this_ time?”

“Can’t you feel it?” said Morgyn meaningfully. “Right here, can’t you feel it?”

One whipped around again and scanned the room.

“Enough of this,” cried Nox, who had been taken aback by the proceedings for a few minutes. “Seize them.”

The grey beasts swirled and dived savagely at the four strange humans, teeth bared and nostrils flared. The girl raised her right hand and the beasts paused in their tracks.

“This isn’t how we are meant to operate,” said One, his teeth clenched, as he drew an offensive dagger from his sleeve.

“Not part of the job description,” agreed Two, drawing a cutlass from his belt.

“What are you two slavering about? This is the most fun we’ve had in centuries,” hollered Three, grinning and pulling a horrible looking wooden cudgel from his belt.

The men shared a look and then leapt readily into their task. Every way the gargoyles turned, there seemed to be a sword or cudgel crashing towards them. The girl set the sword on the ground reverently and lifted her longbow instead. She leapt through the air, seemingly defying the laws of gravity, as she shot arrows with alarming accuracy, while the other three darted around the floor. The beasts, which were powered by Nox’s own significant powers, were beaten back and soon the room had six large stone gargoyle statues.

It probably took no more than five minutes, the bystanders would later conclude, but it seemed to take much longer. Nox was furious. He let each gargoyle fall still as it was beaten and gathered all his remaining power to himself as he struggled against Two and Three’s stronghold as they turned their attentions to him. They held him, and it seemed to stop his power, though neither Two nor Three appeared to have any other visible magic of their own. Nox turned to Morgyn and One.

“What are you?” he snarled.

“We belong to the Soul Gatherer,” said One, taking a thick handkerchief from his tunic and handing it to Morgyn.

The girl dabbed her bleeding lip with it and wrapped it tightly around her upper right arm, which was bleeding from her recent fray with the gargoyles. Her three strange companions were curiously unharmed.

“But what does that mean?” asked Nox.

“We were destroyers, us three,” said Three, motioning to Two and One. “I caused a great city to burn, _he_ sank a hundred ships and _he_ let a country starve.”

“And then we were offered a choice,” said Two, twisting the hold he had on Nox’s arm. “Damnation, or servitude.”

“In short, an eternity with Hades or an eternity of Gathering,” added One.

“Each of us works differently, but we all gather the souls of the dead,” said Three, swinging the cudgel nonchalantly on its leather strap close to Nox’s head.

“People think we are Death,” said Two. “But we are not Death.”

“We do not kill people now,” agreed One. “We merely…”

“Tidy up,” said Three. The three men shared a grim smile.

“And you?” asked Miss Cackle, who was staring at Morgyn very hard.

“Morgyn is not like us,” said One severely.

“She did not burn or drown or starve, she did not murder,” said Two, looking at Morgyn oddly.

“She stays willingly,” said Three, pointing the cudgel at Morgyn accusingly.

“The Soul Gatherer’s Secret?” breathed Miss Hardbroom softly.

“But that’s _legend_ ,” said Miss Bat, who had recovered herself a little by now and was huddling with Miss Drill and the Cackle’s girls.

“It wasn’t exactly like that,” said Morgyn, looking at Three with a frown. “And I promise, you have nothing to fear,” she added meaningfully, looking from Miss Cackle to Miss Hardbroom.

The two shared a look and Miss Cackle nodded and the protective bubble around them faded away.

“Of course not,” said Two, winking at Morgyn.

“What _was_ it like?” asked Mildred, coming to stand next to Miss Cackle.

Morgyn looked at her, her eyes pained and suddenly weary.

“I think you must have been very young,” said Miss Hardbroom, as she began to comprehend.

“I was,” said Morgyn simply, looking at her.

“How did this happen?” said Miss Cackle, sharing a look with Miss Hardbroom.

“What’s going on?” asked Esme Hallow.

“A soul to catch souls,” said One.

Morgyn, looking at her hands, said:

“There is a pact.”

“But why…?” said Mildred.

“I suspect she has her _reasons_ ,” said Miss Hardbroom quietly.

“ _Oh_ ,” said Mr Rowan-Webb, suddenly comprehending, and he looked from Miss Hardbroom to Morgyn and then cast his eye over the crowd of Cackle’s girls.

“The similarities are obvious,” said One, sitting down on a nearby chair and playing with the rough-edged dagger.

“Don’t-” said Morgyn.

“Ask yourself, have you ever met anyone else with so self-less a fighting spirit?” said Two.

“You shouldn’t-” began Morgyn again.

“Or such a disregard for the natural order of things?” asked Three, laughing.

“I cannot believe our luck, Headmistress,” remarked Miss Hardbroom dryly, “but, unmistakeably, this child is a Hubble.”

There came a soft thump from beside them and Miss Hardbroom turned with a raised eyebrow to find that Mildred, for whom it had been a long and exhausting term already, had succumbed to the shock of these words and had fallen faint to the floor.

As Maud and Enid rushed forward to see their friend, Miss Hardbroom made a discrete flicking motion with one hand and her most vexing second year revived and sat up to rub her eyes.

“Millie, are you okay?” asked Maud.

“Did you say...?” asked Mildred, weakly, staring between her Form Mistress's slightly impatient expression and Morgyn.

“I’m afraid she did,” said Morgyn, standing somewhat awkwardly, a little apart from the school pupils, twirling an arrow in her hands absentmindedly.

“Please, don’t feel obliged to get up on my account,” she added nervously as Mildred struggled to her feet.

“Take it easy, Millie,” Maud cautioned.

Mildred ignored her and approached Morgyn, looking pale.

“ _Are_ you… a Hubble?” Mildred asked uncertainly.

“Ah. Yes, I am. Sorry,” said Morgyn, awkwardly.

“Why sorry?” asked Mildred in a daze, as she reeled.

“Strictly speaking, you weren’t meant to meet me,” said Morgyn, glancing at her unearthly companions warily, “not by a long chalk. But I was in the area and heard you calling for help, and I couldn’t very well ignore that,” said Morgyn.

“Why wasn’t I meant to meet you?” asked Mildred, holding her head.

“It was part of the agreement,” said Morgyn gently. “If I swore to never meet you, there wouldn’t be any problems.”

“What problems? And _who_ are you?” asked Mildred.

Morgyn looked uncomfortable and looked to her three companions for help again.

“The Soul Gatherer thought you might have wanted answers,” said One placidly.

“ _Of course,_ I want answers,” said Mildred. She wasn’t sure when they’d started, but there were hot tears streaming down her face.

“I told you so,” said Three triumphantly. “The Soul Gatherer is never wrong.”

“And he never normally gives out his swords either,” said One, looking at the long thin blade which lay where Morgyn had placed it reverently.

“I… borrowed it,” said Morgyn distractedly, pulling a face as One picked it up.

“Ah,” said One comprehendingly, drawing a downward line in the air and creating another fissure.

“But who _are_ you?” pressed Mildred urgently, coming forward.

“I am just Morgyn, Morgyn Hubble, and now I really must go,” said Morgyn broodingly, pulling herself together.

“You’re leaving?” asked Mildred, half way between fury and anxiety.

“I have to,” said Morgyn gently. “There is a pact.”

“But-”

“Mildred Hubble, your place is _here_ ,” came Miss Hardbroom’s warning voice firmly.

Mildred glanced warily at her Head of Year as the woman approached the two Hubbles, wondering if and how the woman had actually known Mildred was about to cause a scene and beg Morgyn’s permission to go with her or whether her witchy senses were merely on particularly high alert today.

“When will I see you again?” Mildred asked instead, turning quickly back to Morgyn. “I have so many questions.”

“I… don’t know,” answered Morgyn truthfully. “I don’t know if we’d be allowed to see each other. There isn’t a protocol for this sort of thing.”

“But-” began Mildred.

Morgyn stepped forward swiftly and placed a finger to her lips.

“I _know_ ,” said Morgyn solemnly.

Mildred met her gaze and nodded slowly. Morgyn withdrew her hand.

“Then I take my leave of you. Well met and farewell, Mildred,” said Morgyn, bowing and raising her head graciously with a hand covering her eyes.

Mildred stared at her for a moment, before rushing forward and throwing her arms tight around her middle. Morgyn put her arms gently around the younger girl’s shoulders, looking down at her wonderingly.

“I just needed to check if you were real,” sniffed Mildred as she stepped away, tears still running down her face.

“And what do you conclude?” asked Morgyn, looking faintly amused.

“I’m not sure,” said Mildred, half-laughing, half-sobbing.

“What a heart you must have, to cry over someone you’re not sure is real,” said Three airily.

Morgyn shot him a glare and he turned away, smirking and picking up Morgyn’s discarded board, and followed Two through the cleft in the air.

“Well met and farewell,” said Mildred, mirroring Morgyn’s actions, “for _now_ ,” she added meaningfully, as Morgyn turned away.

Mildred then felt two hands rest steadily on her shoulders and knew that Miss Hardbroom was seeing to it that there would be no more misadventures for her on this particular day. Mildred huffed forlornly, but didn’t shrug off the reassuring safety of her form tutor’s presence and subtly shuffled back a little to be closer to the tall, dark-haired witch.

One handed the sword to Morgyn and walked through the fissure. Morgyn looked back uncertainly.

“Be safe,” she said, and then she was gone and the hall of Cackle’s was oddly still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References to Marigold Mould - one of Agatha Cackle's original coven (s02 spoilers).


	3. November (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning air was crisp and clear, the cobbles underfoot laced with fallen leaves pinned in place by the night’s frost, and the sounds of Cackle’s students rising and getting ready for another day of hard work reverberated along the dim hallways of the castle.
> 
> All is not well in with Mildred Hubble, and the senior witches are more than aware.

_The morning air was crisp and clear, the cobbles underfoot laced with fallen leaves pinned in place by the night’s frost, and the sounds of Cackle’s students rising and getting ready for another day of hard work reverberated along the dim hallways of the castle._

It began around two days after the encounter with Nox and Morgyn. After the initial shock of waking the next day to find that the astonishing events had not been a dream, and the excitement of finding out about Morgyn had worn off, Mildred’s mood began to change. It had been in small ways at first: disinterest in Spell Science, only pretending to sing along in Chanting, spending more time on her own with Tabby than with Maud and Enid.

Today, two weeks later, she toyed with her porridge over breakfast. Maud and Enid exchanged unhappy glances and nudged their friend to try to bring her out of her reverie.

“Millie, you’ve _got_ to eat,” said Maud in a motherly tone.

“I’m not hungry,” said Mildred, pushing away her bowl and rising to leave.

“Will you come and play cards with us before lessons?”

“No, thanks.”

“Where are you going now?” called Enid.

“Library,” called Mildred, waving a hand over her shoulder and walking away.

“We’ve got to do something,” said Maud to Enid.

“But what? If _we_ can’t cheer her up, there really is something wrong,” said Enid.

“We need help,” said Maud, matter-of-factly.

“But who? We can’t go to HB, she’ll skin Millie alive if she finds out she’s skipping meals,” said Enid.

“Let’s try Miss Bat, we can ask her after last lesson,” said Maud.

Enid nodded and forced herself to finish her toast quickly. Unknown to Maud and Enid, there were two other friends discussing the change in Mildred’s behaviour that morning.

“I don’t like it, Hecate,” said Ada, rubbing her hands together anxiously.

“I still don’t understand why you won’t let me manage this,” said Hecate, “I am her Head of Year, Ada.”

“The connection needs to come from her. She _needs_ to ask for help,” said Ada.

“And if she doesn’t? Out of interest, how much thinner do you intend to let her get?”

“Hecate!” said Ada, hurt by her tone.

“We are not discussing an adult, or even a level-headed senior student: this is _Mildred Hubble_.”

“She’ll find her way,” said Ada.

“If you insist. _If_ she doesn’t get any worse, I will give her until the end of Friday, and then I must intervene,” said Hecate, picking up the pile of maglets she had been marking when Ada had called her into her office.

Ada nodded her reluctant assent to Hecate’s logic. Hecate vanished with a flick of her wrist and Ada sat behind her desk, alone in her office.

“Reach out, Mildred, reach out,” she said quietly to herself.

Unknown to Miss Cackle, Miss Hardbroom was reaching out herself. She stood before her mirror and called to her oldest friend.

“You already know what you need to do, Hecate dear,” said Pippa Pentangle at length, when Hecate had explained the situation. “Scoop her up and make her feel safe again.”

“I do not _scoop_ , and she’s long since become my definition of unsafe,” said Hecate, frowning.

“Then you must learn to help her trust you, and how to stop her from going looking for danger,” said Pippa calmly. “Her whole world has been rocked. If it were _you_ , sweetling, you’d want to know everything there was to know - with no regard to the damage it would cause you personally. There are answers she might not want to know until it’s too late to unsee them. I know you, and I know you don’t want that for her.”

“I am already in a position to oppose her application to the Magic Council for the Underworld Grimoires,” nodded Hecate, not entirely paying attention.

“Above all: make sure she’s eating and sleeping, and that she knows, _whatever_ this turns out to be, Hecate, it _isn’t_ her fault,” implored Pippa.

Hecate looked long and hard at Pippa in the mirror and smiled ever so slightly.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“And if she _does_ manage to get in a Hubble cuddle, make sure Ada’s there to take a picture of the moment that little waif melts your dark, witchy heart,” said Pippa with a cheeky wink, blowing a kiss and waving a hand to end the mirror call before Hecate could explode.

~

In potions that afternoon, Mildred managed to spill her concoction just before the bell that signalled the end of the day. Usually the girl would be full of words – apologising over and over to Miss Hardbroom and begging clemency. But, today, she hovered by the bench and gazed as the laboratory desk flared purple with fire and charred with forlorn tears running silently down her face.

Miss Hardbroom loomed over her and waved a hand to dispel the last of the flames and the charring came to a stand-still. Mildred looked up at her teacher with what Miss Drill had often referred to as a _Level 10: Hubble Emotion Manipulator_ in the staffroom.

“Nought out of ten, again, Mildred Hubble,” said Miss Hardbroom, raising her eyebrows at the girl’s face, ghostly pale and with rings of black looping both her eyes, and noted the lack of brightness in her hair, and her generally extraordinarily dishevelled appearance.

“Girls,” called Miss Hardbroom to the rest of the class, inhaling sharply, “time to pack up. You,” she added to Mildred quietly, “will remain and clean this mess up. Without magic,” she added, turning back to look at Mildred piercingly.

Miserably, Mildred began to clean. She felt sick, and was aware of a low ringing in her ears. She scrubbed at the laboratory bench, tears streaming down her face. Maud and Enid exchanged nervous looks, and Maud mouthed _“let’s go to Miss Bat_ ” to Enid, who nodded her agreement.

When the bell rang, Enid squeezed Mildred’s arm gently and the two friends left her to her scrubbing. Miss Hardbroom sat behind her desk, her arms folded, her eyes watching Mildred as she fetched various items to clean her ruined desk.

“Mildred Hubble, come here,” she said, as she watched Mildred’s body tire of scrubbing all too quickly.

Mildred approached her teacher’s desk, too drained to be afraid, and gazed vacantly at Miss Hardbroom from red, tearstained eyes.

“When did you last eat a meal?” asked Miss Hardbroom.

Mildred’s eyes slipped away from Miss Hardbroom’s and to the floor.

“And when did you last sleep well?” continued Miss Hardbroom, unhampered by Mildred’s silence.

Mildred’s eyes remained on the floor and she seemed to her Form Mistress to be trying to make herself smaller.

“I see,” replied Miss Hardbroom.

Then, she stood up and walked around the desk to lean on it for a moment.

“This is not wise, Mildred Hubble,” counselled Miss Hardbroom levelly. “A witch should never turn down sustenance, she has no guarantee when her next meal may be. Come,” continued Miss Hardbroom, flicking her wrist, and they were transported away.

Mildred landed badly and felt her stomach churn unpleasantly.

“You are not going to be sick, you haven’t enough in your stomach,” said Miss Hardbroom, noting the look on Mildred’s face. “Sit,” she added, pointing to a plush, dove-grey armchair.

Mildred perched on the edge of it, taking stock of her surroundings curiously, as Miss Hardbroom waved a hand and lit the grate. The room was perceptibly part of Cackle’s Academy – the stone work and shape of the windows were similar to Mildred’s own room. But this room was bigger, and had grander furniture than the day-to-day classrooms. The chair in which Mildred sat was one of a pair by the fireside and a small table with a chess board painted on it lay between them, the pieces set for a new game.

Around the room, various plants grew in large pots, their green foliage lightening room. There was a wall of bookshelves on which Mildred saw many textbooks, annuals, dictionaries and encyclopaedias belonging to the private library of her teacher. She swivelled around curiously on her seat to see what Miss Hardbroom was doing.

The tall witch had her back to Mildred and stood at a sideboard. A dark clay teapot floated in the air and Mildred took a very quiet breath of awe as she saw Miss Hardbroom heat the pot in seconds with a magical flame from her left hand. The witch opened a glass jar, which contained a light-coloured dry mixture, and scooped some of this into the tea pot.

This done, the tea pot settled itself on a tray, next to two lighter clay cups and a small pot of viscus golden liquid, and the entire tray floated over to where Mildred sat. Miss Hardbroom was clearing away the things on the sideboard and Mildred marvelled at how controlled she was, holding a perfect levitation spell at five meters’ distance with her back turned.

Finally, Miss Hardbroom turned, brushing her hands together and noticed that she was the subject of Mildred’s wide-eyed, nervous, attention.

“You have something on your mind, Mildred Hubble,” she stated, crossing the floor and sitting in the chair opposite Mildred gracefully.

Mildred was not at all sure what was going on. Miss Hardbroom picked up the tea pot and poured light-coloured tea into both, adding some of the golden liquid to one and handing it to Mildred. The girl took it, a little shakily, and looked beseechingly at Miss Hardbroom with wide questioning eyes.

“Camomile and honey,” said Miss Hardbroom, noting the expression, “and, as I am sure you will remember, Mildred Hubble, it is against The Code to poison another witch,” she added dryly.

“Oh, no, I didn’t think that,” said Mildred quickly.

Miss Hardbroom made a face somewhere between a smirk and a disapproving pout. Mildred bowed her head and sipped her tea to avoid Miss Hardbroom’s steely gaze. But for The Code, Mildred wasn’t at all sure that Miss Hardbroom _wouldn’t_ have given her concoctions in the past – not _poison_ perhaps, but a Truth-Teller or Better-Behaved Balm for when Mildred was being particularly difficult.

The tea was rich and sweet and warmed Mildred slowly all the way to her stomach. She took a few more quiet sips and then looked up at her Form Mistress warily.

“Miss Hardbroom?” said Mildred in a small voice.

Miss Hardbroom had been watching the fire and turned her head to look at Mildred.

“Am I… in trouble?”

“That depends on your definition,” said Miss Hardbroom, taking a sip of her own tea.

“What do you mean?” asked Mildred, fidgeting a little.

“You are certainly not yourself,” Miss Hardbroom replied levelly.

“I’m fine,” said Mildred hurriedly.

Miss Hardbroom looked at her placidly, an eyebrow raised at this barefaced lie and Mildred felt her shoulders droop a little.

“It’s her,” said Mildred quietly.

Miss Hardbroom, resting her cup and saucer on the arm of her chair, shrewdly said nothing and watched her young charge unobtrusively as the girl collected her thoughts.

“I keep thinking about her, about what the pact is,” said Mildred after a tense pause, twisting her sash worriedly, “and wondering what she’s doing. What if she’s in trouble, _how_ would we know, Miss Hardbroom?” Mildred asked, looking up at the teacher pleadingly.

“Realistically, there _is_ no way of knowing,” Miss Hardbroom answered rationally. “ _We_ cannot look into the Forest of Souls, there is no magic – ethical or unethical – which can open that particular dimension except its own inhabitants, as they see fit.”

“Then she could be gone forever?” said Mildred.

“It is a possibility,” said Miss Hardbroom thoughtfully, looking back into the fire.

Mildred was quiet for some time, but her restless nature wouldn’t allow her to sit for long and soon she wriggled in her chair, tugging at her pleats, as she wrestled with her thoughts.

“Do _you_ think she’ll come back?” asked Mildred, in response to Miss Hardbroom turning her head to look at her questioningly for fidgeting so much.

Miss Hardbroom did not answer right away. She breathed long and slow and let out a sigh before she spoke again.

“Truthfully, I do not know. There is so much we do not know about the other dimensions, and the rules which govern them,” the tall witch replied.

“I’ve been looking in the library every day, but I haven’t found out anything Miss Bat didn’t already tell me,” said Mildred, crestfallen.

“There are no texts on such matters in the school library,” said Miss Hardbroom.

“But there _are_ texts, aren’t there?” said Mildred, reading between the hesitation in Miss Hardbroom’s voice.

“They are not freely available to the public,” said Miss Hardbroom, “but I understand that the Magic Council’s library holds one or two pertinent texts. It is no matter what knowledge they _might_ impart, because I utterly forbid you to seek dispensation to read them.”

“Why!” wailed Mildred.

“They are not exclusively concerned with the Soul Gatherer’s legends, but with all Entities of the Underworld and the totality of black magic in both realms,” said Miss Hardbroom simply.

“But, Miss Hardbroom-” Mildred began, and only just managed to stop herself from continuing when Miss Hardbroom raised a finger for silence.

“It would entirely inappropriate. We both know what imagination you have, Mildred Hubble, and how it runs away with you. For once, you must believe me in this matter. You would _never_ sleep easy again and I cannot allow that.”

Mildred sank back in the chair, with a big sigh, feeling suddenly tearful again.

“Were your mother in possession of her magic, she would no doubt have brought you up to understand that the Council library holds many dangerous texts. Should you appeal my decision to her, I will make sure that she is in full possession of the facts of this matter,” continued Miss Hardbroom, a little more sternly.

“I haven’t told her,” said Mildred quietly.

Miss Hardbroom looked surprised.

“Haven’t told her _anything_?” queried Miss Hardbroom. “You have no intention of telling her,” said Miss Hardbroom sagely.

Mildred shook her head, tears spilling.

“How could I? She couldn’t understand any of this. What if Morgyn’s from the past? Or the future? I _know_ my mum,” said Mildred, twisting her hands in her lap, “it would blow her mind. _And_ there’s something wrong, something that shouldn’t _be._ _And_ _if_ Morgyn never comes back…”

Mildred rubbed her eyes with her hands and leaned forward in her chair, so her head was against her knees.

“I think Ms Hubble would want to know,” said Miss Hardbroom quietly.

Mildred’s head jerked up and she sprang out of her chair immediately, upsetting her teacup to the floor as she did.

“You _can’t_ tell her, you _mustn’t_ , please, it would be awful, she’d feel hopeless, no matter how hard she tried, you _can’t!_ She’d feel-” Mildred stopped, realising that she was nose to nose with the person she was shouting at and it was _Miss Hardbroom_.

“Precisely the way you do?” replied Miss Hardbroom levelly, flicking a finger at Mildred’s spilled tea causing it to bob up in the air and return to the sideboard silently, as Mildred panted fretfully, tears rolling down her face.

“I don’t know what to do,” sniffled Mildred, through her tears, looking down at her teacher’s calm face.

“First, you will eat,” said Miss Hardbroom, rising and smoothing down her long, black dress. “You _need_ energy to survive, as well as to process and plan.”

Mildred wanted to put her arms out to Miss Hardbroom, as if she were Miss Bat or Miss Cackle, and be pulled in close. She wanted to feel the weightlessness that came from being safe, if even for only a moment. But she couldn’t will her arms to move. She thought of Morgyn, and wondered who _she_ could ask for safety, and she told herself she couldn’t, _wouldn’t,_ ask for it again – not until she _knew_ that Morgyn was safe.

Miss Hardbroom crooked a finger and Mildred followed her meekly into the next room. This was a kitchenette, fitted in a style that matched Miss Hardbroom. A black range sent a rush of warmth through Mildred as Miss Hardbroom waved her onto a wooden stool next to it. Her teacher busied herself and Mildred stared absently at the door of the range, watching the purple flames inside crackle and burn. She lost track of the time.

She heard Miss Hardbroom open and close a cutlery drawer. Mildred turned to see that two places at the rectangular wooden table had been set and two bowls of hot stew and a mixed-seed loaf were waiting.

“Wash your hands and face,” said Miss Hardbroom, indicating the deep, white china sink.

Mildred got up obediently and did so, before cautiously joining Miss Hardbroom at the table. They sat side-by-side and ate in silence, Mildred aware of her teacher’s hawk-like gaze appraising her and her plate carefully now and then. Mildred had never been very good at putting anything into vanishment, but she felt that Miss Hardbroom’s current, unfamiliar, mood might be ruined if she brought up one of her many classroom failings by pointing out that the woman didn’t need to watch her _quite_ so carefully to make sure she didn’t vanish her meal.

“Thank you,” said Mildred quietly, when she had finished at last.

Miss Hardbroom, who had finished long before her, rose, picking up Mildred’s empty bowl with her own, and strode to the sink where she set the crockery in motion cleaning itself. Then, she opened the door of the range and a warm, cinnamon smell filled the kitchen as she lifted out a casserole dish.

Mildred was watching the dishes doing themselves with amazement and turned her eyes up to her teacher interestedly as the woman placed a bowl of cinnamon-baked apples in front of her. When she thought Miss Hardbroom wasn’t looking, Mildred closed her eyes and inhaled the warm, homely aroma the dish was giving off, savouring the sensation.

Mildred was feeling very full by this point, but was aware that finishing her portion was expected of her. She thought she could feel Miss Hardbroom’s relief when, finally, she put down her spoon, but when she looked up the witch’s face did not register stray emotions. The witch levitated the plates to the sink, where the previous course had already been washed, dried and dispatched to the appropriate cupboards, and crooked her finger at Mildred to follow her again.

In a few minutes, they were settled again in Miss Hardbroom’s private study with another pot of chamomile tea.

“Do you think Morgyn will be alright?” asked Mildred, when there had been silence for a while.

“I cannot be sure,” said Miss Hardbroom regretfully.

“It’s okay,” said Mildred, feeling a good deal calmer, “it’s not your fault. Not knowing all the answers doesn’t make you any less of a good witch,” Mildred added, cupping her hands round the warm tea and blowing on it gently.

“You know that none of this is _your_ fault, don’t you?” said Miss Hardbroom, looking at her solemnly.

“Sometimes I do. As if there’s a bit of me that knows it, but there’s a bigger bit of me that thinks that, somehow, it must be,” said Mildred.

“If it puts your mind at rest at all, I think Morgyn is _very_ much like you,” said Miss Hardbroom quietly.

“I don’t see how anyone could be this much of a mess,” sniffed Mildred.

“I also suspect,” continued Miss Hardbroom, overlooking the interruption, “that, like you, wherever she is, Morgyn Hubble is breaking rules, causing mayhem and changing the lives of everyone she meets,” replied Miss Hardbroom, gazing thoughtfully at the fire, “and I wouldn’t doubt for a second that knowing you are here and safe will go a long way to making her feel that every choice she’s had to make has been wholly worthwhile,” she concluded, turning and looking Mildred in the eye steadily.

Mildred was vaguely aware that her mouth was open and that there was a different kind of tear rolling down her face but at that precise moment she was too stunned to care. Then, the door burst open and Miss Cackle and Miss Drill stood breathlessly on the threshold.

“Hecate, we can’t find-” began Miss Drill, before she stopped, seeing Mildred.

“Is everything alright, Mildred?” asked Miss Cackle hesitantly, noting the tears on Mildred’s face.

“Yes, Miss Cackle,” said Mildred, smiling slightly.

“Hecate?” asked Miss Cackle, looking at her deputy searchingly as though trying to communicate with her without Mildred or Miss Drill hearing.

“Yes, Miss Cackle?” said Hecate mildly.

“Well,” said Miss Drill, adjusting her robes awkwardly, “we’ll leave you to it.”

“Yes, quite,” said Miss Cackle, still looking curiously at her deputy.

Miss Cackle smiled slightly at them both before following Miss Drill out the door. Mildred giggled into her tea cup and Miss Hardbroom looked at her questioningly.

“I don’t know, that just felt funny,” said Mildred, ducking her head and grinning.

“Miss Cackle has been worried about your behaviour,” said Miss Hardbroom dryly.

Mildred’s smile flitted and she wriggled in her seat uncomfortably.

“She has kept a watchful eye kept on you, ever since Morgyn followed in the Hubble tradition of saving Cackle’s from near-death,” Miss Hardbroom continued, taking a sip of her tea. “It was her hope that you would reach out to one of us.”

“I couldn’t,” said Mildred, tracing a finger round the top of her cup.

“I know,” said Miss Hardbroom quietly.

Mildred looked up at her.

“ _How_ did you know, Miss Hardbroom?” asked Mildred sincerely.

“I suppose, it is because Miss Cackle sees you at your best and your worst - whereas _I_ see you always,” said Miss Hardbroom meditatively, sipping her tea.

“And now I must look in on the rest of your class,” Miss Hardbroom added, blinking herself out of her trance-like state and rising, taking Mildred’s empty cup from her.

“Are you _sure_ you didn’t put anything in my tea, Miss Hardbroom?” said Mildred mischievously, as she got to her feet, rubbing her eyes.

Miss Hardbroom turned and looked at her sharply.

“I just feel very sleepy now,” said Mildred, shrugging, with a little smile.

“I did not, Mildred Hubble,” said Miss Hardbroom, giving her a _look_ for joking about such things. “And you certainly _look_ the way you feel,” she added, though she did not look remotely annoyed as she raised a hand and transferred Mildred to her own room.

Mildred felt fuller and sleepier than she had done for weeks, but she fought against the need to rest. She hadn’t told HB about the nightmares she’d been having recently, because it had seemed so silly to say such things to _HB_. But truly she was scared that when she closed her eyes the cosy feeling she had right now would evaporate and she’d be lost in the horrible dream world that had constantly disturbed her sleep in the previous weeks. She resolved to stay awake as long as she could.

HB, of course, had other ideas. When she swept into Mildred’s room a little later to demand to know why the light wasn’t out already, she saw that the worried expression had returned to the girl’s face and she sighed and came to stand by the edge of Mildred’s bed, motioning to the girl to come away from the window.

“What is this, Mildred Hubble?” she asked, pointing to the empty bed.

Mildred shuffled over and climbed obediently into her bed and wriggled down.

“I’ve started to dream badly,” Mildred explained as she did, biting her finger nails, expecting to be criticised.

“Then, I think,” said Miss Hardbroom, with a small sigh, “you had better tell me all about it,” she continued, sitting down on the edge of Mildred’s bed and resting one hand on the far side of her, sheltering the girl.

Tabby, Mildred’s faithful familiar, leapt onto the railing of the bed and beadily watched the pair.

“In the dreams, I’m at the Magic Council,” said Mildred, fidgeting with a corner of her covers, “and Morgyn’s there too. There’s a lot of shouting and they make us do all sorts of tests, like if we can fly underwater, and asking hundreds of confusing questions, and I don’t know any of the answers, but Morgyn does. They lock me away and tell me I’m not going to see Morgyn again and there’s something in the cell with me... but I _always_ wake up before I can find out what it is. I’m usually crying by that point,” said Mildred embarrassedly.

Miss Hardbroom frowned down at herself for a moment, then leaned close and spoke softly.

“Listen to me carefully,” she said, “these dreams may be nothing more than a product of how you’ve been feeling and of how little you’ve been eating and sleeping. They may haunt you, and you have every right to fear them, but you, Mildred Hubble, _will_ overcome them one day.”

“They seem so real,” whispered Mildred.

The teacher looked sad for a moment, before a wicked little smile played on her features.

“As to their substance, Mildred Hubble, kindly remember that it is _my_ job to test you, and _mine_ to discipline you, and then let me assure you: I will not allow _any_ Council to second-guess _me_ ,” murmured Miss Hardbroom, and her tone and the smirk that accompanied these words brought a little smile to Mildred’s face.

“Now, _rest_ ,” she added calmly, tucking the blankets around her student to settle her.

Hecate stayed, sensing that her presence was calming the girl, and stared pensively at the wall as Mildred closed her eyes and drifted off.

“Watch her, faithful familiar,” said Hecate to Tabby, as she rose to leave when she had listened to Mildred’s breathing gradually descend into slumber, “and find me if she gets worse.”

Tabby meowed and plopped down into the crook of Mildred’s arm to snuggle.


	4. The Underworld (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The surroundings were primarily pale green and grey. A mist hung about the air and not a sound could be heard, except for the shifting of four restless sets of feet and one droning voice.
> 
> While Mildred may be far away and unhappy, Morgyn still has a job to do.

_The surroundings were primarily pale green and grey. A mist hung about the air and not a sound could be heard, except for the shifting of four restless sets of feet and one droning voice._

Morgyn listened respectfully as the Soul Gatherer talked. It is a strange thing to listen to. His voice was not altogether there when his being seemed to be, and his being never seemed to be altogether there when his voice was. The Gatherer slipped in and out of vision all the time, and so did his voice. It was, so One had told Morgyn long ago, something to do with existing in different dimensions at once.

The Gatherer talked slowly, or so it always seemed to Morgyn. His words were equally weighted, almost robotic in their lack of emphasis or accent, as he held a large ledger in his arms and discussed the planting of souls.

The Gatherer had not appeared particularly alarmed or surprised to see his four assistants appear from one dimension. He was not at all ruffled about his sword having been borrowed, as Morgyn returned it dutifully to him. His only comment was to say: _“you have returned”_ and nod to himself as though everything was as it was meant to be.

One, Two and Three cut their way into their allotted time/space dimensions and Morgyn was alone with the Soul Gatherer.

“I heard her,” said Morgyn. “And then I met her, and then I had to go.”

The Soul Gatherer nodded again, and held out his sword to Morgyn. She took it and cut a line through the air once more before handing the sword back to the Gatherer.

“I miss the world all over again,” said Morgyn. The Gatherer nodded once again.

“Old things end, and new things begin,” said the Soul Gatherer, as Morgyn stepped through the rift to carry out her work.

~

It was soon after that Morgyn first noticed a difference in the portals. Normally, the rifts that her and her colleagues cut were dark, unpleasant spaces combining the shadows in the time and space between their current positions and their destinations. By contrast, the portals which appeared when a soul was ready to depart and grant both them and their gatherer access to the Forest were light spaces.

At first, Morgyn thought she might just be feeling fatigued from the Surface. But after gathering two souls, she became convinced that the portals were becoming blacker. When she returned to the Forest next, she trailed across to One’s patch to wait for her colleague to revisit to his home.

One’s home was a ramshackle structure set between three large trees. Over the centuries, One had collected many, many artefacts from the times he had visited. Morgyn, quite at ease here, trailed her hand among some of the objects – running her fingertips down the cool copper of a microscope and across the feathers of an indigenous headdress.

“Morgyn,” said One’s voice placidly from the doorway. “Are you harmed?”

“No,” said Morgyn, turning to smile sadly at him, “but I think we have trouble ahead.”

“I see. Will you join me?” he said, indicating two hand carved wooden chairs.

“Have you noticed a change in the portals?” Morgyn said, without preamble. One frowned and shook his head slightly.

“What sort of change?”

“A lack of lightness, something slowly creeping,” said Morgyn restlessly.

“You should tell the Gatherer,” said One, at once. “He may be able to protect you.”

“The thing is, One, I’m not so sure that I want to _be_ protected anymore,” said Morgyn numbly.

“What do you mean?”

“When I was on The Surface, it felt _so_ good to finally be the one doing the protecting,” sighed Morgyn.

“Your presence here, your choices, have protected that world,” said One sagely.

“I know, but you should have _felt_ it, One, my magic was blazing in my skin and I’d never felt so alive,” said Morgyn, laying her head back and looking up at the grey sky.

“You know what you stand to lose, if you linger there too long,” reminded One. “And-”

“ _There is a pact_ ,” repeated Morgyn tiredly, closing her eyes. “A soul to gather souls, a new balance to the cosmos, a rewriting of the stars, and a place far from the madding eyes of Death.”

“If you went back,” said One, “you might risk losing that defence.”

“What would you do?” asked Morgyn, looking down at him placidly.

“I think the point is that you are where I could _never_ be,” said One calmly. “Your brief time on Earth was more pure than the sum total in the vastness mine.”

“Should I resolve myself to never see them again?” asked Morgyn, frowning.

“I cannot answer that,” said One. “But we both know who can.”

“Whether he’ll part with the information is another matter,” said Morgyn, rubbing a hand over her eyes.

“Yes,” agreed One placidly.

“I must go to him, mustn’t I?” said Morgyn broodingly. One gazed at her. “Thank you,” she added, getting to her feet and grimacing at One.

“For what it is worth,” said One, “whatever you decide to do, you will have my support.”


	5. December (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The weather had fully turned for the year, and icy rain and bitter winds whipped the castle walls day and night.
> 
> Mildred found that, as the days went on, her Form Mistress was even more present than she had been before in her life at Cackle’s. At mealtimes, the second years were treated to Miss Hardbroom’s unannounced presence at least five times a week, and their bedtime routine had become so punctual that other members of the school could set their watches by the soft, meaningful tread of the Deputy Head on her way to check on her students at fifteen minutes to lights out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Features some slightly scary dreams.

_The weather had fully turned for the year, and icy rain and bitter winds whipped the castle walls day and night._

Mildred found that, as the days went on, her Form Mistress was even more present than she had been before in her life at Cackle’s. At mealtimes, the second years were treated to Miss Hardbroom’s unannounced presence at least five times a week, and their bedtime routine had become so punctual that other members of the school could set their watches by the soft, meaningful tread of the Deputy Head on her way to check on her students at fifteen minutes to lights out.

In spite of this, or perhaps because of this, Mildred felt incredibly nervous about approaching the tall, daunting witch for help.

“Tell her,” whispered Maud, nudging Mildred meaningfully one afternoon.

“I _can’t,_ ” moaned Mildred.

“You _have_ to,” replied Maud.

“Go on, Millie, Maud’s right,” said Enid.

“But I _can’t_ ,” whined Mildred faintly.

“Mildred Hubble,” Miss Hardbroom’s voice rang out over the noise of the dispersing class.

Mildred looked up and saw her potions teacher pointing to a spot next to her desk meaningfully. Even after knowing Miss Hardbroom for the best part of two years, Mildred’s stomach did a nervous nosedive whenever Miss Hardbroom used _that_ tone. It was a tone that spoke of trouble, of detention, and of all manner of tellings-off.

The rest of the class left, no one taking much notice of Mildred, and the door closed of its own accord.

“Mildred Hubble,” repeated Miss Hardbroom, looming over her and giving her a full glare of disapproval.

“Y-yes, Miss Hardbroom?” stammered Mildred.

“You look unrested,” said Miss Hardbroom. “Again.”

“Oh,” said Mildred, feeling a little relieved that it wasn’t anything more serious. “I haven’t been sleeping so well since… Morgyn,” she added.

“More night-terrors?” asked Miss Hardbroom, an eyebrow arching.

Mildred nodded meekly, not trusting herself to speak. Miss Hardbroom conjured a chair and waved a hand at Mildred, inviting her to sit down. Mildred did so, and hugged her knees.

“Start at the beginning,” said Miss Hardbroom, sitting back in her own chair.

“They always start the same way,” said Mildred tentatively. “I’m by a lake, and the air splits open. I go through the rift – I don’t have a choice, something’s pulling me in – and I come out somewhere dark. I’m dreaming in black and white now, and it’s not like any dream I’ve had before. There are… creatures there and they seem to be waiting for something. They look almost human, but when I try to look too closely, they seem transparent and disappear into black fog.”

Mildred broke off with a shudder and took a moment to compose herself.

“The creatures see me and they take me to a huge underground chamber – where everything is green, and there’s a green pool in the centre. They drag me to the water’s edge and hiss at me. They’re asking me what I see. But I don’t see anything!” she added, running a hand across her hair in distress.

“They scrape their nails across my arms and my neck and pull my hair and hiss louder and louder, trying to force me to answer. But I still see nothing but water. Sometimes they hold my head under the water and I try to kick out and try to get away, but they’re strong,” said Mildred, biting her nails.

“And then, just when I’m exhausted and I think I’m going to drown and never wake up, something inky and black forms deep in the water. It’s coming up towards me and the creatures all start to scream – they run away and I try to see what’s coming,” Mildred breathed reliving her fearsome nightmares.

Miss Hardbroom rose from her chair and came around the desk.

“That’s when I wake up, and I’m cold with sweat, and I can’t remember what the shape in the water was, or why they wanted me to see it,” said Mildred, rubbing her eyes fiercely.

“How often have you had this dream?” asked Miss Hardbroom, placing a cool palm on Mildred’s forehead to check her temperature.

“Seven times,” said Mildred miserably, as her form mistress felt along her jawline to check her tonsils and glands for swelling.

“Seven?” repeated Miss Hardbroom, looking momentarily thunderous that Mildred hadn’t told her about this already.

“At first I thought it was just a normal nightmare,” said Mildred quickly and appeasingly as she looked up the length of Miss Hardbroom’s arms, “but I don’t think I’ve ever dreamed the same thing so many times in such a similar way.”

Mildred watched nervously as Miss Hardbroom seemed to be thinking deeply, still lightly holding her cheeks in her cool palms. Then the witch turned and stretched out an arm to find a particular book.

“I wonder,” said the older witch thoughtfully.

“What is it?” asked Mildred timidly, leaning towards her teacher instinctively.

“Can you describe the creatures in your dream accurately?” asked Miss Hardbroom.

“Would this help?” replied Mildred, pulling her sketch book from her satchel and opening it at the pages she’d etched out following the second night of the dark dream.

Miss Hardbroom took it gingerly and gazed down at the figures Mildred had drawn. They were slightly hunched, with eyes wider than humans, and had double-pointed ears and two extra rows of sharp teeth. Miss Hardbroom slammed the sketchbook shut forcefully, gasping sharply, turning away from Mildred.

“Miss Hardbroom?” said Mildred in alarm.

On receiving no answer, she sprang up and bravely put a hand on her teacher’s wrist. Miss Hardbroom was even paler than normal.

“What are they?” demanded Mildred. “Miss Hardbroom, please, I _have_ to know,” cried Mildred when the older witch shook her head wordlessly.

“No, you don’t, Mildred Hubble,” gasped Miss Hardbroom quietly.

“Whatever they are, they’re _not_ just in my dreams, not if you recognise them,” reasoned Mildred. “Are they going to come for me for real?” asked Mildred, her voice choked.

“No!” cried Miss Hardbroom, her free hand pressing Mildred’s face instinctively as if to assure herself the girl was still there.

“No,” she repeatedly more calmly, putting down Mildred’s sketch book and pressing her other hand to Mildred’s face, eyes combing the anxious young face, memorising it.

“That wouldn’t be possible. The creatures you have seen are… trapped. They cannot walk on The Surface or in The Underworld.”

“Why?” asked Mildred curiously.

“The creatures are… in limbo,” explained Miss Hardbroom elusively.

“Are they… monsters?” asked Mildred in a small voice.

“They are considered as having cheating Life or Death of something,” said Miss Hardbroom, her throat feeling oddly constricted, resting her hands on Mildred’s shoulders and squeezing them lightly.

“What did they want with _me_?” asked Mildred, leaning into her teacher again anxiously.

“The problem with dreams,” said Miss Hardbroom, gritting her teeth, “is that they are far too open to interpretation. This dream could mean all manner of things. But I think it may safely be interpreted as a warning,” she said, covering her eyes with her hands.

“I don’t think I understand,” said Mildred, “but I am scared.”

“So you ought to be,” said Miss Hardbroom, taking her hands from her eyes and looking down at Mildred. “I will speak with Miss Cackle, she may be able to offer more insight.”

“What should I do?” asked Mildred in her smallest voice.

“Go, take supper as usual and rest for the evening. And know, Mildred Hubble, that you are not alone,” said Miss Hardbroom firmly.

Mildred nodded and did as she was told. Hecate watched her go, her hands clenched in terrified fists at her sides, before locking the classroom and transferring to Ada.

“Ada,” she gasped, gripping Ada’s shoulders tightly, “Mildred’s been dreaming of the Lost Souls.”


	6. The Archives (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night was bitterly cold, but there was a break in the wintery rain, and a black shape soared across the night sky.

_The night was bitterly cold, but there was a break in the wintery rain, and a black shape soared across the night sky._

The conversation, as Hecate could remember it, had ended something like this:

“I’ll meet you there,” said Pippa firmly.

“That’s not what I meant -” said Hecate.

“You are _not_ doing this alone.”

“I’ll be perfectly fine-”

“ _Hecate_ ,” said Pippa forebodingly, turning on her full headmistress glare through the mirror.

“But-” began Hecate weakly.

“Not another word. I’ll meet you in two hours. Do not, _under any circumstances_ , set foot in that building without me,” warned Pippa, checking her wrist watch.

“ _Pippa_ -”

“Hecate Hardbroom, if I get there and you’ve _not_ waited, I’m going to curse every item in your wardrobe to figure-hugging fluorescent pink satin from now until the day I die, now, _will you do as you’re told!_ ” said Pippa firmly, waving a hand and ending the mirror call.

Which explained, after a fashion, why Hecate’s first excursion from the confines of Cackle’s in nearly thirty years involved waiting anxiously by cover of darkness in the shrubbery surrounding the Magic Council’s Archives for a very pink witch to land gracefully next to her.

“I almost can’t believe it’s you,” said Pippa, taking Hecate in her arms gently and kissing her cheek.

“We have to hurry,” said Hecate nervously.

Even with Ada’s blessing and support, even with the knowledge that Mildred _needed_ her to find and supply guidance, Hecate found herself equally terrified and alarmed to be away from the reassurance and routine of her world at Cackle’s.

“How long did Algernon’s contact estimate we have?”

“An hour, at best,” said Hecate anxiously, glancing around them apprehensively.

“I’m here, Hiccup,” said Pippa soothingly, pressing a hand to the taller witch’s arm gently, “you’re not alone.”

A small jet of light blue stars sparked from an upper window and both witches held their breath.

“That’s the signal,” breathed Hecate.

“Well, then,” said Pippa with gentle bracingness, taking Hecate’s hand and pulling her along, “let’s find ourselves some creepy Grimoires.”

~

Pippa leaned over a hallowed Grimoire in the depths of the Council Archives a little later, her sun-tanned cheeks and pink lips illuminated pleasingly by the lamplight. She could feel Hecate’s gaze on her and she turned her head sharply, beaming at her over the top of her pink spectacles as she caught her eye.

“What is it?” she asked softly, noting the expression on Hecate’s face.

“You… just dropped everything and came?” said Hecate, her face puzzled.

“Darling, Hecate, it’s not often I get to feel like the witch in shining armour, and it’s even less often that you actually _ask_ for my help,” smiled Pippa, laying a hand over Hecate’s and squeezing it. “ _Of course_ , I came.”

Hecate smiled weakly, as though overwhelmed.

“Now, _this_ is interesting,” said Pippa, motioning to the Grimoire. “Listen:

_In the realm of the dead,_

_where a forest does grow,_

_there once lived a woodcutter,_

_with an axe and a bow._

_He served Death well,_

_or so it is said,_

_until Death took his daughter,_

_and chopped off her head…_

_“_ – oh, my,” said Pippa, breaking off, blinking, “there’s a rather _vivid_ illustration,” she murmured disconcertedly. Hecate approached and settled by her side, their arms leaning together as they both leant on the desk.

“Indeed,” said Hecate, grimacing and turning the page purposely.

 _“His heart torn in two,”_ Pippa read on:

_“the woodcutter cried,_

_‘Enough of this, Hades,_

_my daughter has died!’_

_Hades appeared –_

_grinned like a fiend,_

_and granted him ways_

_and means to defend._

_Now in that realm,_

_where the forest still grows,_

_a Gatherer dwells_

_with a sword in tow._

_His blade cuts time_

_and the worlds between,_

_and like a shadow he flits_

_unseen._

_He has but one wish:_

_To outsmart Death,_

_And he’ll fight for this goal_

_‘til the cosmos’ last breath.”_

“Gosh,” said Pippa, after a pause, “I’ve never heard this much detail before.”

“Nor have I,” agreed Hecate, turning the page again, “ _this_ ,” she added guardedly, “looks promising.”

Pippa leaned over and saw the section Hecate was talking about.

“ _The Soul Gatherer’s Secret_ ,” Pippa read. “Hecate,” she breathed with anticipation, gripping the dark-haired witch’s wrist tightly.

_“When Hades rests,” Hecate read in a low voice, “and Death is wild,_

_and Fate suspiciously despises,_

_there will come a child, into the night,_

_and they shall be hidden: far from Death’s sight._

_There is a pact!_

_A life surrendered: soul for soul,_

_A small heart taken for the Forest’s goal:_

_An addition to the Gatherer’s shoal._

_For to this promise_

_The heir shall belong -_

_As the cosmos has cried,_

_And the stars be revised._

_Though on the Surface_

_Their powers be bold_

_When hidden from Death_

_Their talents – untold!_

_Hence to the Surface_

_When restless be_

_Death’s menace soars,_

_But remains ever true to their Entity_ ,” finished Hecate.

“It would be completely unbelievable,” said Pippa, after there had been silence for a moment, “but for the fact that you’ve actually _met_ her.”

“I don’t know,” said Hecate, frowning, “this _isn’t_ helping me comprehend what’s happening to Mildred.”

“You don’t think… _she_ could be the heir?” asked Pippa doubtfully.

“Mildred?” murmured Hecate.

“You said you thought Morgyn was the one?” said Pippa, rubbing her forehead. “Could you be wrong?”

“I believe she is,” said Hecate vaguely. “But… what if that’s the point?” she said, straightening up and glaring up into the darkness thoughtfully. “What if someone else got it _wrong.”_

“You mean, if someone _thought_ the heir was Mildred…” said Pippa, covering her mouth with a hand.

“They might do all they could to lure her to the Underworld, into Death’s reach?” said Hecate grimly. “She’s been dreaming of the Lost Souls,” said Hecate in a far-off voice.

“They can slip into her dreams?” said Pippa, clutching Hecate’s arm. “Hecate, what _else_ are they capable of?”

There was a distant clanging sound, as though someone was approaching their position in the Archives. Pippa all-but leapt into Hecate’s arms in fright.

“Hecate, oh gods, Hecate,” gasped Pippa, gripping Hecate even tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References to Hecate's confinement to Cackle's Academy (s03 spoilers). Implied that Ada can give her blessing to Hecate to leave for short periods of time. Shoe-horn-canonical.
> 
> I'm not entirely happy with the poetry, but it's as close to a fairy-tale-esk-kinda-gory-story as I could get it for now.


	7. The Underworld (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A girl with long dreadlocked hair stood beside the flickering spectre of a very old man. The pair’s concentration was on a swirling rift which rested in a dark pool of water between two gnarled and blackened trees.

_A girl with long dreadlocked hair stood beside the flickering spectre of a very old man. The pair’s concentration was on a swirling rift which rested in a dark pool of water between two gnarled and blackened trees._

“How can I help them?” asked Morgyn, staring through the rift.

“You cannot,” said the Soul Gatherer.

“There must be something-”

“This is not your battle, Morgyn Hubble,” said the Soul Gatherer.

“So, how will I know which of those _things_ is an imposter?” asked Morgyn.

“I do not know,” said the Soul Gatherer, shimmering thoughtfully. “Perhaps it will be obvious, perhaps it will not.”

“Great,” said Morgyn under her breath. “Can they hurt me?” she asked.

The Gatherer shook his head.

“They are squandered souls, uninvited by Death, abandoned by Fate, not near enough to be gathered, not far enough to be sent back.”

“What do I do, once I’ve found the imposter?” asked Morgyn.

“There is only one exit from that realm,” said the Gatherer gravely.

“Ah” said Morgyn, her shoulders drooping.

“You still bare my protection,” said the Gatherer.

“It’s not just me I’m worried about,” said Morgyn.

“If your heart is set, then it is time,” said the Soul Gatherer solemnly.

“I’d say wish me Luck,” said Morgyn, “but given what a bad mood she was in last time I called...” she trailed off, and then took a huge breath and leapt into the pool before them.

Morgyn entered limbo and shuddered at the loss of colour as she swam through the rift. She felt physically drained herself, as if someone was letting the air out of her lungs and she kicked hard and resurfaced, glancing around at the monochrome realm.

With a little effort, she scrambled up the slippery lakeside. She wasn’t entirely sure whether she ought to walk stealthily or not, so she ended up lolloping along for a few paces before stopping, shaking her head at herself, and walking on normally, casting a quick drying spell over herself as she did.

Whatever was waiting for her, Morgyn reasoned, it wasn’t going to matter much if it heard her coming.

Morgyn walked through the deserted grey landscape, watching with interest as the scenery around her blobbed, melted and reformed at random. She saw a rocky outcrop ahead and headed towards it cautiously.

As she approached, she saw the entrance to a cave. It was a rough, jagged opening in the rock face, much like the jaws of an alligator, and Morgyn swallowed and coughed nervously as she approached. There was a faint green tinge to the air here, a single streak of colour, and Morgyn reasoned that she should follow it to its source.

She tried whistling cheerfully to herself as she walked, but soon stopped when the strange acoustic of limbo brought her sounds back to her eerily. Morgyn told herself not to be foolish, that there was nothing here that could hurt her right now.

It was a few minutes after thinking this that Morgyn saw the first of the Lost Souls. The path ahead, leading to the outcrop, snaked between two boulders and Morgyn perceived a figure peering out at her from behind one of these.

The figure had long, webbed hands with talon-like nails. It’s face was a blank scowl, all teeth and waxy flesh with pointed ears. Morgyn swallowed hard again and slowed her pace. She didn’t know if this was to avoid alarming the Lost Soul or herself, but she felt instinctively safer approaching the creature with care.

“I am looking for another, another like me,” called Morgyn. “Is there another stranger here?”

The creature made a soft snarling noise and turned on it’s heels and ran off.

“Great,” muttered Morgyn, continuing on the path towards the outcrop.

When she stood in the entrance, Morgyn glanced back at the ever-changing grey landscape and sighed deeply. It was the most depressing realm she’d ever entered. Turning, she clambered up the entrance to the cave and made her way inside. It was darker here, and the green was more pronounced.

The entrance lead to a series of long passages. Straining her ears, Morgyn could hear distant sounds and sought to follow them. There were green torches with green flames in brackets along the cave walls. Morgyn paced downwards in silence under their flickering shadow, noting that the noise was increasing the closer she got to her target.

It was cold and damp and dismal here, and Morgyn had to tread carefully to avoid slipping on the wet ground. Instinctively, she hated the thought of being underground in limbo.

Finally, she came out into a tall cavern, where thousands of Lost Souls peered down at her from high rocks. They were quiet, though she could swear it was their sounds she had been following before.

“I’m looking for another, another like me,” she said, more bravely than she felt.

There was a “surussus” and murmur from the Lost Souls.

“Is she here?” Morgyn called more urgently. “Is there another here like me?”

A creature approached her, it’s head bent slightly to avoid her eyes, and it beckoned to her with its webbed claw. Tentatively, Morgyn followed it as it led her to the underground pool.

“Mildred?” called Morgyn hopefully, looking all around.

The Lost Souls were whispering again and Morgyn grew more nervous. She drew her longbow from her shoulder and prepared to defend herself against Hades knew what. From the green pool, a figure rose, climbed out and dusted themselves down.

“Morgyn?” called the figure.

“Mildred?!” called Morgyn, lowering her bow and rushing forward. She drew up, just in time to notice that something was wrong. “You’re not her,” she said, just in time to watch the form shift into that of Agatha Cackle.

“No,” agreed Agatha. “I’m not me either, just yet. I needed something living and tangible to come rushing into limbo willingly and now you’re here, I’ll leave you to the Lost Ones,” said Agatha.

The older witch made a ripping motion in the air and Morgyn felt something of her humanity pulled straight from her chest and snatched into the witch’s hand.

“What have you done?” gasped Morgyn.

“Think of it as a little grounding, dear,” said Agatha nonchalantly, “you’ve just forfeited your pass to travel to the Surface.”

“No!” cried Morgyn, as Agatha snapped her fingers and disappeared.

The Souls were making their strange hissing sounds again, soft and tragic, and Morgyn dodged as one of them tried to reach for her. In frantic desperation, Morgyn rushed to the edge of the pool and looked down. It wasn’t a dark pool, not in the sense that it ought to have been. It was bright green and swirling.

“There is only way out of that realm,” the Soul Gatherer had said.

Morgyn took a deep breath and plunged into the bright green water.


	8. The Archives (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Between tall stacks of dark wooden shelves, two witches stared at each other in mounting alarm.

_Between tall stacks of dark wooden shelves, two witches stared at each other in mounting alarm._

“ _Duplico_ ,” Pippa whispered.

“Wh-! _Pippa_ ,” gasped Hecate, astounded. “These documents are-”

“Probably the only way to save Mildred and this Morgyn child,” replied Pippa firmly, lifting her perfect print of the two ancient tomes, which was now handily disguised as a pink binder.

There were footsteps in the hall.

“Hecate, dear,” said Pippa, “I think _now_ might be a good time to use your stunning transference skills,” she said pointedly.

Hecate, who’s face was a mask of shock, nodded numbly and curled her fingers, scooping herself and Pippa out to safety just in time.

“I can’t believe you just-” said Hecate weakly as she hurried along next to Pippa across the dark lawns of the Magic Council: the blond witch could march remarkably quickly for someone in heels and a tight-fitting dress.

“Believe it, Hecate,” replied Pippa pleasantly. “There is nothing I wouldn’t do for one of my students, and I know you feel the same.”

“But those texts are _sacred_ ,” moaned Hecate.

“Would you like to take them back inside, Hecate?” asked Pippa, stopping and looking at her expectantly.

“Well, no,” said Hecate bashfully, after a few seconds.

“Then do stop fretting, and get your broom, there’s a good witch,” commanded Pippa patiently, snapping her fingers to call her own broom to her side. “I haven’t the slightest objection to being caught flitting in the middle of the night with a mysterious brunette, but I do think it’d be terribly discouraging if we both got arrested for trespass at this point, don’t you agree, darling?” she added pointedly.

Hecate spluttered for a second and then snapped her own fingers, bringing her broomstick to herself.

“I need to get back to Cackle’s,” said Hecate, “right now,” she added, and two brooms shot into the air together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry-not-sorry, Pippa is an angel.


	9. December (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Great Hall of Cackle’s Academy was once again filled with scared students and sieged teachers. In the centre of the room, the wicked twin of the headmistress had returned from her banishment to seek revenge.

_The Great Hall of Cackle’s Academy was once again filled with scared students and sieged teachers. In the centre of the room, the wicked twin of the headmistress had returned from her banishment to seek revenge._

Mildred was screaming for help and then silence fell in the hall, except for the swirling sound of a portal as, like a shaft of light, The Triad appeared.

“The gang’s all here!” said Three, with a delicious sigh. “Wasn’t expecting such a crowd.”

“If I’d have known, I’d have put on a tie,” agreed Two.

“Agatha Cackle,” said One, pointing her out to his companions, looking her up and down. “I’m assuming it is still Agatha Cackle?”

“We don’t like to presume, when it’s been a while,” breathed Two, glancing at his companions, “for all of us.”

“You don’t recognise us, do you?” said Three, eyes fixed on Agatha.

“We remember you,” said One, walking around.

“We remember you, very well,” said Two.

“Shall we tell you a little story, Agatha Cackle?” said Three, licking his lips keenly.

“You might have heard pieces of it before,” added Two.

“But I’m sure we can all fill in the blanks together,” said Three.

They both turned to One.

“There was once a witch,” One began, “who, to save her coven, and reignite a founding stone, gave up her magic and the magic of the thirteen generations that would follow her.”

“I don’t know about you,” said Three, “but that sounds like a high price to pay.”

“Nearly 600 years without a witch in the family,” put in Two.

“A tragedy,” agreed One. “But there came a glimmer of light in these dark times.”

“A prophecy, of things to come,” said Three.

“It spoke of a thirteenth heir,” said One, “to end the darkness.”

“The years dragged on, the prophecy was lost,” said Three.

“And then came the twelfth generation,” said Two.

“And signs of Spring began to show,” added Three.

“From the twelfth, came the thirteenth,” said One. “A baby, no less.”

“Love babies,” said Three glibly, “couldn’t eat a whole one, but love ‘em, anyway.”

“And no one should have known,” said One, glancing pacifyingly at Three.

“No one should have been able to say who or where this baby was,” continued Two.

“The ancestors did their darndest to make sure no one would ever know _just_ how important that baby was,” said One.

“Because, you see, thirteen generations, that’s a _long_ time to be without magic,” said Three. “So, this child, this chosen one, from that family, was crucial.”

“Oh, gods,” groaned Two, “the power this child would grow to have, you wouldn’t believe.”

“Or perhaps you would,” said Three, turning his gaze on Agatha.

“Perhaps you knew _exactly_ what kind of power that child’d have,” said Two.

“Maybe you’d read the prophecy,” said One, “maybe you’d read the stars – Praise Hades, there are enough of them about.”

“And maybe you began to search,” said Three.

“You must have been desperate,” said Two. “Though, you weren’t exactly busy at the time.”

“Your sister was running the school, you were a bit of a failure, but it was fine, you had a lot of free time on your hands,” added Three with a shrug.

“No meaningful occupation,” put in Two.

“So, you searched and you searched,” said One, “and you found the thirteenth generation.”

“I mean, hats off to you, I don’t know how you did it,” said Three.

“But, you see, this is where we start to see just how you differ from your sister,” said Two.

“If it’d been Ada,” said One, indicating Agatha’s twin, “I’d willingly bet my immortality that she would have hidden that child, that she would have cared for it, nourished it’s talents and she would have made _sure_ that no one - _no one_ \- was going to use that baby as a weapon or bargaining chip.”

“But that’s exactly what you intended to do, Agatha,” said Three.

“Because you looked at that child and you thought you knew everything about her,” said One.

“And then you made a deal,” said Two.

“The worst kind of deal, by the way,” said Three.

“You made a deal with Death,” breathed One.

“You offered,” said Three, struggling to keep his tone level, “that _infinite_ , precious baby to Death.”

“And, being Death,” added Two, “He said yes.”

“Of course, everyone else is probably wondering by now _‘What did Agatha get out of it?’_ , which is what you were wondering too,” said One to Agatha.

“In exchange for the lifeforce of this baby, Death was willing to grant you the magic of thirteen generations,” said Three.

“You already were, in fact, quite powerful, Agatha,” said Two, “you’re never _quite_ as powerful as you think you are, but you were powerful nevertheless.”

“But you found you couldn’t resist the lure of more power,” said One.

“And you actually thought that would be it,” said Three, looking grimly amused, “that you’d told Death where to find the baby and He’d grant you your powers as soon as He had the baby in his clutches.”

“And you could go on, in your bid to do whatever it was you wanted, with no accountability for the killing of an infant,” said Two.

“But Death is nothing if not a mistrustful being,” said One.

“He summoned you, and you accompanied him to the cradle of the thirteen generation,” said Three.

“Death was very pleased, I expect,” said Two, “He thought you’d got him a good deal. He collects extraordinary humans, you see. You thought you’d got a good deal too, until you both came to collect.”

“Because, there-” said Three.

“Standing above the cradle-” said Two.

“You met the greatest thief of all,” said One.

“In his hands,” said Three, savouring the memory, “he held the soul of a baby.”

“He’d taken what you wanted,” goaded Two.

“He’d rebalanced the cosmos in his own favour,” said One.

“I bet you couldn’t stand it,” said Two.

“But I bet you couldn’t do anything either,” said Three.

“Because the Soul Gatherer has just as much credibility as Death, just as much influence in the Underworld,” said One. “But he _chooses_ to use his differently.”

“Bit like you and your sister, really,” jibed Two

“He saw what was about to happen,” said Three.

“He said no to your plans,” said Two.

“He said: _This soul is in my care_ ,” repeated One. “ _I have rewritten the stars and I am taking it home.”_

“I can’t imagine how angry you must have been,” smiled Three. “I mean, I have a _fairly_ good idea,” he added with a smirk.

“So, you acted as you always do,” said Two. “You went away, thinking that your plans had been foiled, that the baby was as good as dead.”

“You said nothing to the mother,” said Three.

“You didn’t tell her her baby was special,” said One.

“I mean, most mothers think their children are special,” said Three. “Until they grown up and really get to know them.”

“You’d know all about that, Agatha,” said Two.

“What you didn’t realise, not until much later,” said One, after a silence, “was that the Soul Gatherer had deceived you.”

“When into your life fell Mildred Hubble,” said Three.

“You couldn’t admit to knowing who she was,” said One, “you didn’t trust your sister any more and you knew that she and the witches of Cackle’s Academy would rather perish than let you take one of your own.”

“You tried hard to take Mildred, to enslave her,” said Three.

“But you have been duped again,” said Two.

“You see, the Soul Gatherer isn’t like Death. He doesn’t just come, do a job and go home at the end of the day. He’d made a pact, Agatha Cackle, and he never goes back on his word.”

“A _life_ surrendered,” said Two solemnly.

“It was a tricky business,” said Three, “ensuring neither you nor Death would take the baby.”

“So, a new balance was struck,” said One.

“You’re going to be so furious,” said Three.

“Do you remember looking down on the baby in that cot, thinking _‘to hell with her’_ and doing everything in your power to give her to Death?” asked Two.

“Or when you walked away that night, putting the matter from your mind?” said Three.

“As if you hadn’t just caused _years_ of pain to other people,” said Two.

“Twelve years of pain, Agatha Cackle,” said Three.

“What is your problem with me?” seethed Agatha.

“Our problem?” said Three, looking at his fellows and laughing manically.

“Oh, no,” said Two. “We have no problem.”

“ _Your_ problem,” said One, “is that you got it wrong.”

“You came looking for the heir, and you were so certain you’d found her,” said Three.

“So absolutely certain,” crooned Two.

“But, you see, the Soul Gatherer is never wrong,” said One, “that’s the thing about the way he exists. He can see it all. And he was so sick of watching Death and the wicked plucking children before they were ready.”

“The souls of the young are sacred: did you know that?” said Three reverently.

“He’s foiled your plans over and over,” said Two.

“He hasn’t,” said Agatha viciously, renewing her grip on Mildred.

“Oh, yes, he has,” said Three.

“He let you think you’d found the baby. He let you think she was the one.”

“She was the one. _Is_ the one,” said Agatha impatiently. The Triad laughed.

“Mildred Hubble is extraordinary,” said One, nodding, “but not for the reasons you think.”

“You see, Agatha, He saw the truth about you and Ada,” said Three.

“That Ada, the younger child, was to grow up thinking she was the first born,” said One.

“No,” said Agatha aghast, beginning to realise something was wrong.

“The firstborn child of the twelfth generation, the thirteenth heir of the Hubble line, was born before Mildred,” continued One.

Mildred, who was still wrapped closely in Agatha’s aggressive arms gave a cry.

“Not even close,” whispered Three, “Eleven months, Agatha, _eleven months_ before, Julie Hubble gave birth to _another_ baby.”

“A witch _so_ powerful she would learn to bend the Underworld to her will,” said Two, as Mildred began to sway in Agatha’s arms.

“No,” said Agatha hysterically.

“So, let me tell you, Agatha Cackle, how you put that infinite, precious life at risk for no reason,” said One, pointing to Mildred.

“And, let _me_ tell you,” said Two, “how unhappy you’ve made the true firstborn, the thirteenth heir, by doing so.”

“She bowed to the rules of the Underworld to save Mildred,” said Three. “She manipulated time, put barriers in your way.”

“And she stopped you,” said One, “which makes Mildred Hubble extraordinary.”

“Now, if that wasn’t a cunning plan,” said One, “I don’t know _what_ is.”

“She had a little bit of help, of course,” said Two.

“All credits for original ingenious go to the Soul Gatherer,” added Three.

“But the credit for the next bit, Agatha, is yours,” said Two darkly.

“You see, Agatha, the thirteenth heir, the one you’ve been searching for, who spent twelve years in the Underworld because of you - to protect her _sister_ \- is the same girl you lured to the Lost Souls while trying to snare Mildred,” said One.

“I wonder just _how_ incensed Death is going to be when he realises you’re bringing him the wrong girl?” concluded Three, with a smirk.

“No,” said Agatha, furiously dragging Mildred closer to the portal.

“Agatha, _stop_ , she’s a child!” cried Ada, from where she was held on her knees by two of Agatha’s cronies.

“She’s mine,” hissed Agatha, and in awful moment Ada watched her sister deliberately slip backwards into the portal.

Mildred’s screams died away as the pair vanished. Ada stared in horror, and then saw something black burst across the room and disappear into the closing portal like a shadow.

 _“Hecate!”_ breathed Ada fearfully.


	10. The Underworld (Part 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The surroundings were of lava, cooled by the wrath of an Entity’s power to form a rough, raised dais, from where Death could oversee the extent of his empire.

_The surroundings were of lava, cooled by the wrath of an Entity’s power to form a rough, raised dais, from where Death could oversee the extent of his empire._

Morgyn stood before Death. There was no point running now. He could follow her wherever He pleased. He could hunt her, cutting down as many humans and animals around her as He pleased. He could shadow her, a nameless, shapeless _thing_ for eternity.

“The soul who would substitute herself for my Thirteenth Heir,” exhaled Death, chuckling languidly. “Such a clever, trivial thing. I’m almost glad I didn’t get to take either of you when you were small. This will be much more appropriate,” He added.

“You were fooled once by the old crone, and she’ll do it again,” said Morgyn, deadpan.

“Have you no respect?” thundered Death.

“You see, the thing about growing up in the Underworld,” said Morgyn, clasping her hands behind her back and pacing in front of Death’s throne, “is that your ability to be afraid of The Entities diminishes daily when you’re exposed over and over to their ways.”

“You do not fear me?” chuckled Death.

“Not anymore,” said Morgyn.

“Ah, but there is something that you _do_ fear,” said Death.

“It cannot happen here, in the Underworld,” said Morgyn placidly.

“I cannot kill you here, to be sure, but I could enslave you,” said Death, chuckling again.

“And still, I do not fear being killed,” said Morgyn.

“But you _would_ fear for your mother and your blessed sister,” said Death.

“That is true enough,” said Morgyn.

“You need not fear,” said Death, leering, “when I have devoured them, there will not be a _soul_ left that remembers the name of Hubble.”

“You cannot interfere in the pact,” said Morgyn blandly.

“I do not have to,” said Death, “you have come to me willingly.”

“I think using Agatha Cackle to entrap me stretches the definition of _willingly_ a little far, even for you,” interjected Morgyn scathingly.

“I do apologise,” leered Death. “You could sue me, if only lawyers weren’t banned by Hades.”

“Lawyers might be,” said Morgyn, staring thoughtfully over Death’s shoulder, “but it appears that _witches_ are not.”

Death whirled around and stared at the approaching figure of Agatha Cackle, who was dragging Mildred unrelentingly towards Death’s throne.

“Master,” she panted, “I bring news.”

“Very _lively_ news,” said Death emotionlessly, waving a hand and ensnaring Mildred in vines to keep her from struggling.

“We had the wrong girl,” panted Agatha, “all along, this brat wasn’t the Heir at all,” she said, pointing to Mildred.

“What?” said Death, quietly.

“It’s her,” said Agatha, pointing to Morgyn. “She’s the one.”

“How can this be?” muttered Death.

“It’s simple, really,” said Morgyn, viewing Death solemnly. “Agatha tricked you.”

“No,” snarled Agatha.

“What?” said Death, uncertainly.

“It’s true,” said another voice.

Morgyn turned to see the tall, dark-haired witch from Mildred’s school standing next to Death’s throne. If the woman was afraid, she showed absolutely no sign of it.

“Hardbroom,” snarled Agatha.

“Agatha,” replied Miss Hardbroom coolly. “You wanted the power of thirteen for yourself, and you tried to trick Him into giving it to you, _gratis_. You had no intention of delivering the correct child.”

“Liar! Master, this woman works with my sister,” whined Agatha.

“Which, presumably, makes her a damn sight more honest than you,” said Morgyn placidly.

“You came through the portal, down to my realm, to save the little witchling?” chuckled Death.

Hecate’s face gave nothing away, her eyes were narrowed, her lips slightly pursed.

“Then, there is an easy way to settle this,” said Death. “Which of these girls is the true heir, and which is the spare?” he asked, directing his speech to Hecate.

“If you answer correctly,” he added, “you may take the spare and leave with your life. Lie, and all three shall belong to me.”

Mildred writhed and wriggled hopelessly on the floor, trying to free herself, staring at Miss Hardbroom as the woman returned Death’s cool gaze. She saw the woman exhale wearily.

“She cannot die here,” interrupted Morgyn, “nor can my sister, nor I-”

“Dying is only one of many potential side effects of dwelling in my realm,” snapped Death, turning his burning eyes on the young witch.

“ _Terrifying_ , I’m sure,” mocked Morgyn, tossing her head. “But it is not _us_ who have deceived you.”

Death turned to look at Agatha stonily.

“M-master,” she stammered. “It’s the older girl, I swear it.”

“On your life?” asked Death thoughtfully.

“There is another solution,” said Miss Hardbroom.

“Do tell,” said Death, floating near to the tall witch and encircling her languidly.

“A test - to discern which of the witches present has the most power,” said Miss Hardbroom rigidly. “Whichever has the most power will remain here, willingly.”

“A contest,” chuckled Death, “I do like this one,” said Death to Morgyn, indicating Miss Hardbroom with a hand.

The girl looked at him over crossed arms and rolled her eyes.

“You _can’t_ keep her, Death,” drawled Morgyn, “you _know_ you’ve never been good with mortals. Very well, I’ll play in your contest, but _only_ if you swear to two conditions,” said Morgyn, raising a hand.

“But I do so _enjoy_ pets,” whined Death mock-petulantly. “Shall we humour her?” Death asked Hecate solemnly.

Hecate pursued her lips and shot Morgyn a questioning glance.

“At the conclusion of this contest, you are to swear - by Almighty Hades - to allow all survivors to freely leave your realm,” said Morgyn.

“That seems… _fair_ ,” said Death, as though the word was distasteful to his non-existent tongue, examining his ivory flanges as though admiring his nails.

“ _Swear it_ ,” said Morgyn darkly.

“By Almighty Hades,” said Death, raising a hand to his chest solemnly with a sigh. “Now, can we skip to the bit where you all lose and I bind you here for eternity?” he pouted.

“ _Secondly_ ,” said Morgyn pointedly, “Fate must adjudicate.”

“Hmm,” said Death, “I wonder what you think Fate will do for _you_ , child.”

“She’s trying to trick you, Master,” said Agatha fearfully.

“No doubt,” grinned Death, “but I should be surprised if she succeeds.”

“A contest is Fate’s domain,” said Morgyn, shrugging, “she’d be furious if she found out you’d been playing without her.”

“Call her,” sighed Death resignedly.

Morgyn knelt on the ground and leant forward in a child’s pose, her head rested on the hardened lava, and murmured reverently.

_“By all that is true and just, in impartiality and in trust, I summon Fate to adjudicate.”_

“Well,” said a new voice, “I didn’t expect to hear from _you_ again for at least another decade.”

They saw that a tall, buxom red-haired goddess was now looking down on Morgyn. The goddess was completely naked, and had her arms folded accusingly. She inclined her head to one side and awaited Morgyn’s response.

“Fate,” the girl said, getting to her feet.

“Yes, baby, still me,” said Fate, pulling a face.

“I’ve called you-”

“I noticed,” put in Fate, her eyes flashing.

“To adjudicate a contest between the witches present,” said Morgyn, motioning to the other people in the cavern.

“Oooh, Deathy,” said Fate, seeing Him and smirking. “I can’t recall, are we on speaking terms?”

“Nor can I,” said Death with a bow, “will you concede to amuse yourself with this display?”

“Oh, you know me,” said Fate, wiggling her eyebrows at him, “I never can resist. Who do we have here?” asked Fate, sweeping a hand to release Mildred. The girl gasped and felt limply to the ground with fatigue, taking breathless gasps.

“A Thirteenth Heir,” said Death, with a shrug. “Or, possibly not.”

“I _see_ ,” said Fate, looking around the participants with interest once more.

“One of the witches present is more powerful than the others,” said Hecate tensely. “The contest will prove who is the most powerful. She alone will remain here, while the others are liberated.”

“Hmm,” said Fate playfully, coming into Hecate’s personal space, her eyes roving over the witch. “I’d amuse myself with _you_ anytime, I’m sure it would be awfully… _liberating_ ,” she murmured, swishing away towards Death again.

Hecate blinked and glanced at Morgyn, an eyebrow raised.

“I’m afraid she’s always like this,” said Morgyn in an undertone, rubbing a hand across her eyes.

“I heard that, little gatherer!” called Fate, as she took Death’s arm and he seated her comfortably on the bearskins that covered his terrifying throne.

“Mildred,” said Morgyn, pulling her sister to her feet and leading her to stand next to Miss Hardbroom.

“All this time, you were _my sister_?” said Mildred, tears spilling down my face.

“My heart, I am sorry,” said Morgyn earnestly, touching her cheek. “If there was an easy way to explain, I would. But now is not the time.”

“Then _when_?” demanded Mildred hotly.

“Soon,” replied Morgyn, taking her sister’s face in both hands and kissing her forehead.

“What are we going to _do_?” asked Mildred fearfully, looking between the two older witches.

“Give them what they ask,” said Morgyn, with baited breath. “Show them the deepest, darkest recesses of your magic, hold nothing back.”

“But…” began Mildred.

“Do as you are told,” said Miss Hardbroom swiftly, giving Mildred a sharp look.

Mildred looked beseechingly between Morgyn and Miss Hardbroom but could not think of a single argument in the face of their resolve.

“The little witchling will play first,” called Fate delightedly, pointing to Mildred and then a spot in front of Death’s throne.

Morgyn squeezed Mildred’s hand surreptitiously and Miss Hardbroom pressed a hand to her shoulder reassuringly.

“Remember what we agreed,” murmured Morgyn, “give them everything you’ve got.”

Mildred swallowed and nodded, looking back at the two reassuring but anxious faces as she crossed the floor.

“You, er, don’t happen to _have_ a plan… do you?” said Morgyn hesitantly, out of the corner of her mouth, as the two of them backed slowly away from the arena.

Hecate Hardbroom looked coldly sideways, and then rolled her eyes.

“Thank the Entities, because I’m all out,” sighed Morgyn, earning herself another glare. “I’m Morgyn Hubble, by the way.”

“Hecate Hardbroom,” replied Miss Hardbroom curtly.

“Well met,” said Morgyn distractedly, “got to admit, you’re the first Surface witch I’ve ever seen gate-crash one of Death’s parties. You’ve made quite an impression on him, Pet.”

“This sort of thing happens… frequently?” queried Hecate carefully.

“Surprising, isn’t it?” replied Morgyn wearily. “I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve told him he needs a healthier hobby.”

“Let’s begin!” cried Fate, wiggling her hips excitedly.

Death laughed boomingly and Agatha seemed to have regained some of her poise and was living up to her surname.

“Angling, maybe,” Morgyn muttered.

“And is it… always like _this_ here?” asked Hecate, raising an eyebrow at Morgyn.

“Watercolours, even. Usually, yes,” sighed Morgyn, “but more often than not, it’s worse.”

“The young challenger,” boomed Death, calling up an audience of shadows around them, “will she prove herself as my new Thirteenth Heir? Let us call her opponent to take the floor,” he leered, his eyes blazing, as a hellhound crept out of the darkness to face Mildred.

“When this is over, one way or another, Mildred has _got_ to get out,” breathed Morgyn, suddenly focused.

“I agree,” said Hecate, ducking as Mildred’s irregular defence turned to an erratic offence. “Except in my version of events, _I_ will not be going anywhere and _you_ will be.”

“ _What?”_ said Morgyn, frowning at her.

“I am more powerful,” said Hecate gritting her teeth, and suddenly gripping Morgyn by the arm and forcing her out of the way just in time as a fireball screamed passed them.

“But how-” gasped Morgyn, landing on the ground in surprise with Hecate’s body shielding her.

“On the Surface,” interrupted Hecate, placing a hand resolutely over Morgyn’s mouth to silence her, “your magic is amplified thirteenfold. But _only_ on the Surface,” said Hecate intently, bracing herself over Morgyn as another fireball hissed close over them.

“ _Don’t_ be suggesting what I think you’re suggesting,” said Morgyn, aghast, as Hecate released her mouth and they both scrambled to their feet.

“Your magic, it felt different away from here, didn’t it?” hissed Hecate, fixing her with hard look.

“Y-yes, but how did you…?”

“There’s no time,” said Miss Hardbroom, seeing that Mildred was weakening, “suffice to say, in the Underworld, you are simply a thirteen-year-old soul with thirteen years of magic to her name.”

“But that means… _you_?” gasped Morgyn.

“Am substantially older and more powerful here, yes,” said Miss Hardbroom grimly, looking away.

“No,” said Morgyn desperately, grabbing her hand with both of her own and pulling her closer. “You are _not_ to offer yourself,” she argued fiercely, “you have a life up there, Hecate Hardbroom, I am content to continue here. I can’t let you -”

“You may not be my student,” answered Miss Hardbroom, her voice suddenly low and overpowering, “but while we are in this realm, Morgyn Hubble,” she continued, taking a grip of Morgyn sharply and tugging the girl in against her, “you _will_ let me take responsibility for your safety. _Thus, I set my seal on thee_ , _thou art bound to_ _obey me_ ,” Hecate hissed fiercely, kissing Morgyn’s forehead and in so doing sealing the strongest and most far reaching obedience hex she could muster without potions.

Swiftly, she wrapped an arm swiftly around Morgyn’s waist to stop the girl collapsing fully under the sheer strength of it. Morgyn’s eyes and mouth opened wide with surprise, but true to Hecate’s theories she _was_ less powerful than the older witch and consequently fell under her spell completely: her head lolled, her pupils dilated, her body slackened and she blinked unfocusedly.

“You will tell no one in this realm of this,” Hecate murmured in her ear, cradling Morgyn’s cheek to her own and stroking her fingers through the girl’s dreadlocks soothingly while her quarry’s body acclimatised to the hex.

Morgyn mumbled incoherently.

“You will fight with all your strength and honour. You _will_ get your sister and yourself out of here, at the first possible moment,” Hecate continued, silently cherishing the feeling of embracing Morgyn, acknowledging her as the last human she might ever see, “and when you get back to the Surface, tell Ada and Pippa… tell them… _‘thank you’_ ,” she added, pulling back to look into Morgyn’s eyes, her face pale and drawn.

Morgyn nodded obediently.

“ _Next!_ ” called Fate gleefully, as Mildred sank to the floor in exhaustion.

“Go, do your best, Morgyn Hubble,” said Hecate to Morgyn, urging her away and covering her mouth with her hands to disguise her anguish.

Morgyn walked dazedly towards the centre of the floor. Fate watched her with keen eyes, while Agatha whispered in Death’s ear. Morgyn stepped over Mildred’s resting form and into the arena.

“The little gatherer,” sighed Fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this too scary for younger readers? I really can't tell. I feel like it's no more gory than HP or His Dark Materials, but I'm happy to stand corrected.


	11. The Underworld (Part 4)

Morgyn stared hard at the approaching Hellhound.

_Remember, she thought to herself, this isn’t a real hound. It isn’t going to feel any hurt. Just because you_ **think** _it looks like an animal, doesn’t change the fact that it’s a figment of Death’s dark imagination._

Morgyn swallowed nervously, feeling herself compelled to dredge up every small fraction of her power. She blinked dazedly, and crouched down to face her opponent across the pock-marked floor.

With all the accuracy years of archery practise had given her, Morgyn hurled spell after spell at the creature, dodging and diving the return-fire. She yelled in frustration when she could not find a way around it’s defences. For more than ten minutes, Morgyn all-out battled, until she was panting with exhaustion and sweat dripped from her hairline.

Helplessly, she rolled behind a boulder to rest for a moment and her hand happened to brush the pocket of her leggings. Something oddly sharp was digging into her leg. She lifted the pocket’s flap, frowning, and found to her amazement that the Soul Gatherer’s dagger had been hidden there.

_That scheming, conniving, clever, old fool, thought Morgyn, half irritated, half amused._

She dragged herself out from behind the boulder, knowing now at least in part what she needed to do. She drew out the dagger and ran at the Hellhound. The beast crouched, ready to spring at her, and they passed one another gracelessly in mid-air. Morgyn’s feet slammed into the ground and she sliced the dagger through the air, creating a rift between this realm and the forest.

“You may not leave until all have been tried,” said Fate, almost lazily.

“No cheating,” tisked Death.

Morgyn looked up from the ground, her eyes wide and beseeching and helpless, to Hecate.

“Then try _this_! _Banished be_!” Hecate cried and swirled her arms upwards above her head – sending the Hellhound backwards in a swirl of grey smoke - and then down until her hands were together at chest height, the brightness of her spell lighting her face as she turned to look at Morgyn.

_“Where you once walked,_

_So I shall tread,_

_Your pact now mine,_

_To serve instead._

_Be free, sweet child,_

_To leave this place,_

_Return, swift, to Earth’s surface!”_

Hecate pushed with all of her remaining magical might, and Morgyn, clutching Mildred’s form, obediently rolled through the swirling rift, the look of wordless anguish on the dreadlocked girl’s face disappearing as the rift closed silently behind them.

“Oooh,” said Fate, watching Hecate’s magic fade, “pretty,” she added, giggling, as Hecate breathed breathlessly.

Fate slid out of the throne easily and down to Hecate’s side, running a finger up the back of the woman’s arm lightly. Hecate gritted her teeth and clenched her fists.

“We have a winner,” boomed Death.

“Not feeling talkative?” said Fate, pouting as she walked around Hecate. “Shame,” she crooned, running a fingertip from Hecate’s forehead down to the tip of her nose. She lifted it as if to tap the tip of the witch’s nose. Hecate snatched Fate’s hand away before she could go further, and Fate laughed gleefully.

“Hecate,” purred Fate, rolling the word and licking her lips, moving closer to Hecate. “I feel like getting _very_ well acquainted-”

“Fate,” said a voice.

“Not you,” scowled Fate, her head snapping to one side to take in the newcomer.

“ _YOU!”_ bellowed Death, pointing at the Soul Gatherer.

“You have meddled with a soul,” said the Gatherer to Fate.

“Hecate’s with me, now,” said Fate. “Deathy says-”

The Soul Gatherer shook his head.

“If this witch offers herself in the place of the Hubble heir, then rightfully she belongs to the Forest,” said the Gatherer.

“What is this trickery?” demanded Death.

“There was a pact,” said the Soul Gatherer. “I offered an immortality of servitude in the Forest to the Hubble heir, in exchange for the protection of her family. Now that you would dismiss the heir from the Underworld, any substitute belongs with me. The cosmos, you see, must be rebalanced.”

“I will not accept this-” cried Death, and the two Entities began a furious argument.

“I don’t like it when they do this,” said Fate, pouting and wrapping an arm around Hecate’s waist. “Ole Soul Joe _always_ has to go one better than me,” she added, running her fingertip down Hecate’s nose again.

“How tiresome,” said Hecate, through gritted teeth.

“If the boys are going to fight over you, it rather spoils the fun,” said Fate, sighing and tracing the shape of Hecate’s hip with a fingertip, “of course, we don’t have to make it _too_ easy for them,” she added, removing her hand from Hecate’s cheek and cutting a line in the air with her fingertip, opening a portal to the Forest of Souls.

Hecate stared at Fate.

“If I know that wretched little gatherer, she’ll have made Death agree to things he will soon be obliged to respect, and if I know her _well,_ she’ll be up to no good in the Forest. She’s always been a cunningly impish immortal,” said Fate, looking Hecate in the eye with uncharacteristic solemnity.

“You would help us?” asked Hecate suspiciously.

“Not ordinarily,” admitted Fate, glancing down Hecate’s body slowly and then back up to her eyes, “ _ordinarily_ I’d keep you mind, body and soul. But I have an old score to settle with Death, and it turns out He’s rather taken with you too,” smirked Fate, glancing at where the two Entities were still arguing and raising her eyebrows at Hecate.

“So, my dark-eyed enchantress,” she whispered, leaning in. “If you take my advice, neither Death nor Fate shall hold you,” she continued, suddenly pressing her own lips to Hecate’s tenderly, unwrapping her arm from Hecate’s waist as she did, “find your darlings _and_ _run like hell!_ ” she concluded.


	12. The Underworld (Part 5)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hecate landed from her dimension leap on the Forest floor and glanced over her shoulder, stunned once again by the force of the transportation, to see Fate’s portal closing behind her. Although her power still surged through her, Hecate could sense that it wasn’t going to be nearly enough to find a way out of here. She had made sure the girls got out first for that reason, she reminded herself. She was prepared, she hoped, for just about anything.
> 
> She found, however, that she was completely unprepared for the sight of a giant, winged black horse riding out of the sky and landing with a click of powerful hooves on a rock nearby.

Hecate landed from her dimension leap on the Forest floor and glanced over her shoulder, stunned once again by the force of the transportation, to see Fate’s portal closing behind her. Although her power still surged through her, Hecate could sense that it wasn’t going to be nearly enough to find a way out of here. She had made sure the girls got out first for that reason, she reminded herself. She was prepared, she hoped, for just about anything.

She found, however, that she was completely unprepared for the sight of a giant, winged black horse riding out of the sky and landing with a click of powerful hooves on a rock nearby. Hecate gazed in amazement as Mildred and Morgyn waved and beckoned to her to come to them quickly.

“What in the name of…?” she gasped as Morgyn leaped down, pointing at the horse proudly, rushing over to Hecate.

“You didn’t think we’d _leave_ you?” shouted Mildred, as though this was the silliest idea.

“You could have been _killed!_ Or, _whatever_ it is that happens to you in the Underworld,” scolded Hecate, aghast. “And _where_ did you get this… thing?”

“You can kill us about that _later_ ,” called Mildred obligingly, as her sister pushed the witch towards the winged horse.

“He’s a Pegasus,” panted Morgyn cheerfully, “very accommodating, provided you’ve got enough Mint Imps.”

Hecate opened her mouth to ask what a Mint Imp was, before realising she probably didn’t want to know, and snorted in disbelief as she stepped elegantly from a boulder to sit side-saddle on the giant horse’s back, behind Mildred.

“Well, Morgyn Hubble, is this a rescue or not?” said Hecate, leaning down and yanking the breathless girl back onto the Pegasus with ease.

“Do you know how to ride, Miss Hardbroom?” asked Mildred timidly as her teacher looped her arms under Mildred’s and took the reins from her grasp.

“We need to get away from here as fast as possible, and I’ve drained too much power to transfer us all at once. _Brace_ yourself,” said Miss Hardbroom softly into her ear with something that sounded like amusement to Mildred.

Mildred didn’t need telling twice: she stiffened apprehensively and wrapped her hands around her teacher’s arms as tightly as she dared.

“There’s a portal at that edge of the Forest,” Morgyn said to Hecate, pointing North. “I never knew why: it was always there.”

“You think the Soul Gatherer left it deliberately?” asked Hecate, to which Morgyn nodded.

“Very well,” Hecate added grimly, “we’ll head that way.”

“To the skies, Salfredo,” shouted Morgyn gleefully, and the Pegasus bent his knees and leaped into the air without warning.

“What’s that?” shouted Mildred, as they swept above the treeline.

“Damn Him to Hades!” cursed Morgyn, slapping her thigh in frustration, “it’s Death’s hellfire. He must have worked out what’s happening.”

“He’s burning the Forest?” cried Mildred, looking back at them both in fear.

“It’s happened before,” said Morgyn grimly, “every time the Entities get into a heated argument.”

“ _How_ did you know Fate would help?” asked Hecate suddenly, glaring over her shoulder at Morgyn.

“I didn’t,” laughed Morgyn, wrapping her arms around Hecate’s waist and holding them both in place as Salfredo swept higher and higher, “but I knew she wouldn’t be able to resist meddling in mortal affairs and pissing off Death.”

“Such language is unwitchlike,” replied Hecate curtly.

“Yes, Pet,” grinned Morgyn appeasingly, pressing her face into Hecate’s back and chuckling, “besides, _everyone_ knows Fate has a thing about tall, dark, mysterious strangers,” giggled Morgyn, earning herself a cluck of disapproval from the stern witch.

If Mildred had been scared when flying the Pegasus before, it was nothing compared to how she felt with Miss Hardbroom in charge. Finally, the creature had found someone with a nature as rare and powerful as its own.

Together, the pair were dauntless: they grazed the tops of the forest and swerved the fires by a hair’s breadth and rode higher and faster and dizzyingly. Mildred shrieked on more than one occasion and eventually turned her head into the safety of Miss Hardbroom’s arm to avoid looking down.

Morgyn whooped and laughed, still full of reckless adrenaline, and was obviously enjoying the flight tremendously, though at one point when they swerved to avoid hurtling through a hellfire flare, Mildred heard her sister swear so floridly, and at the top of her lungs, that Miss Hardbroom wordlessly took the reins in one hand for a moment to give herself a free hand to shoot back and land a reproachful smack on the girl’s thigh, earning a rueful yelp and a grumbled apology from the teenager in response.

At last the portal was distantly in sight.

“Company,” yelled Morgyn warningly, and Mildred and Miss Hardbroom both looked back to see Death’s hellfire looming and gaining rapidly.

“Keep going,” Morgyn shouted to Miss Hardbroom, “I have an idea, but it’s going to be tricky. Call me back at 100 metres.”

“ _Don’t you dare, Morgyn Hubble!_ ” Hecate hollered, feeling Morgyn move behind her.

“Sorry, Pet, your spell has well and truly worn off,” yelled Morgyn smugly.

Mildred wasn’t sure, but she thought she heard Miss Hardbroom splutter at this.

“Be careful!” shouted Mildred anxiously.

“I’m _always_ careful,” scorned Morgyn.

The other two could feel Morgyn manoeuvring herself round to face the hellfire and then they heard her chanting.

“ _I planted you in days gone by,_

_To give you peace and rest:_

_But now Death’s fires rage and roar,_

_And peace and rest expire!_

_Arise, my sorry sapling souls,_

_From where I tender planted:_

_Awake: your Gatherer’s path defend -_

_And leave Death no dominion!”_

Among the smoke and fire and roaring of the wind, a new horror reached their ears. It was a cacophony of creaking, groaning, crunching, wailing sounds – the amassed symphony of a hundred or more burned trees rising from the forest floor in one accord. It was deafening and dismaying to see the monstrous wrecks rising all around like wretched travellers in an ocean’s depths.

“Keep going, I’ll have power to transfer us once we’re through the portal. That is, _if_ you’re right about my magic!” Morgyn yelled to Hecate, and she leapt from the Pegasus’ back.

“ _Wretched immortal menace!_ ” exclaimed Hecate through gritted teeth, as Morgyn landed lightly on the skyboard she’d summoned with a wave of her hand.

“Morgyn!” screamed Mildred, nearly falling off the horse.

“Right behind you,” Morgyn yelled back, directing her char-wood army across the sky to form a huge battalion in front of the approaching fires, and Mildred felt herself hauled upright again and settled more securely between Miss Hardbroom’s arms.

The battle between the hellfire and the souls raged and the searing heat from the flaring forest fires below urged the Pegasus faster and faster. Morgyn ducked and dived and weaved around them, sending broken hunks of tree to block every danger she could. Her skyboard was a blur and Mildred could hardly turn her head fast enough to follow her.

“200 metres,” called Hecate to Mildred, as Morgyn looped around them dizzyingly. “180, 160, 140, 120 – _100!”_

“Morgyn, now!” screamed Mildred.

Morgyn turned and sped towards the other two witches, crouching low on her board, clutching the sides with her finger tips. As she travelled, a bright, dazzling blue light surrounded her, growing and growing as she sped along and _finally_ as they flew through the portal, Mildred understood why Morgyn needed to transport them so urgently: the Pegasus, which was a creature of the Underworld, could not exist on the Surface. It vanished, leaving Mildred and Hecate falling through the air.

Mildred screamed, feeling the vast nothingness below her, felt an arm curve around her ribs resolutely and a hand close tight around her wrist.

 _“Safety!”_ they heard Morgyn shriek, and then everything dissolved.


	13. The Surface (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Mildred opened her eyes, she saw Morgyn lying peacefully before her, the gleaming skyboard unblemished beside her. She could feel a pair of arms enfolding her and she crooked her head to see that it was Miss Hardbroom cradling her. The teacher’s eyes were closed and she looked pale and exhausted, but Mildred could feel a steady stream of warm breath on the back of her neck. Carefully, Mildred tried to wriggle upright. The woman tensed her arms around her pupil instinctively and awoke, blinking hazily.

_When Mildred opened her eyes, she saw Morgyn lying peacefully before her, the gleaming skyboard unblemished beside her. She could feel a pair of arms enfolding her and she crooked her head to see that it was Miss Hardbroom cradling her. The teacher’s eyes were closed and she looked pale and exhausted, but Mildred could feel a steady stream of warm breath on the back of her neck. Carefully, Mildred tried to wriggle upright. The woman tensed her arms around her pupil instinctively and awoke, blinking hazily._

“Are you alright?” asked Mildred, rubbing her own heat-sore eyes.

“More or less,” replied Miss Hardbroom wearily, slowly releasing Mildred from her grasp and sitting up. “And you?”

“I’m not sure, I’ve never felt a transference like _that_ before,” Mildred replied, looking a bit green. She knelt over Morgyn and shook her gently.

“Hey,” she said, “wake up. We’re… well, we’re _somewhere_. Morgyn?”

Morgyn stirred in her sleep and made a little moan but didn’t appear to be any closer to waking.

“She used too much power too rapidly,” said Miss Hardbroom critically, leaning over and placing a hand on Morgyn’s forehead and opening one of her eyes to examine her.

“Will she be okay?” asked Mildred anxiously.

“With enough rest, and _if_ I don’t kill her first, yes,” said Miss Hardbroom dryly, but brushed one of Morgyn’s dreadlocks away from her face gently as she spoke.

“Where do you think we are?” said Mildred, looking around.

“Morgyn requested a place of safety,” said Miss Hardbroom, looking around. “I suppose this is safe _enough,_ ” she added cautiously, observing the wide meadow of late crops in which they were sitting. In the distance there was a huddle of trees.

“Will we be able to get home?” asked Mildred awkwardly, not wanting to presume that Miss Hardbroom would be able to fix everything.

“Yes,” said Miss Hardbroom, lying back on the earth next to Morgyn and closing her eyes, “but I require time.”

“I’ll give you some space,” said Mildred, scrambling to her feet.

“Not so fast, and not so far,” said Hecate instinctively, turning her wrist slightly and shooting a green cord of magic which looped itself round around her own wrist and then across the air and around Mildred’s waist.

It was a simple spell, but it looked like it took the witch far more effort than normal.

“I’ll be careful,” said Mildred.

“Hmm,” murmured Miss Hardbroom doubtfully. While her right hand was wound with the green cord, her left rested over one of Morgyn’s.

Mildred trudged through the harvested stocks, savouring the sound of the remains of the brittle crop crunching under her boots, and the feeling of the cool wind on her bare arms. She stared all around, but could see no house or human company. There were miles and miles of fields in some sort of valley.

Mildred wondered whether she ought to offer to summon help. She didn’t know any spells of that kind, but she knew Miss Hardbroom would. Idly she wandered towards the woodlands and couldn’t have taken more than two hundred paces from where Morgyn and Miss Hardbroom lay when the magical cord around her middle suddenly went taut and she found she couldn’t move any further away. She marked a cross with her boot and walked in a round circle on the peripheral of her permitted space to see if she could see anything from the other side.

After a while she felt quite tired and sat down with a view up the valley. It was cold, but peaceful here and Mildred drank in the quietness.

When she could stand the cold no longer, she got up and went back to Morgyn and Miss Hardbroom. Miss Hardbroom opened her eyes briefly and watched Mildred lie down, resting her head on Morgyn’s shoulder, and gripped her sister’s free hand in both of her own.

“Please be okay, Morgyn,” Mildred whispered.


	14. The Surface (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Mildred awoke, it was to find herself in her own bed in her mother’s flat. Her mother was dozing in a chair next to her, wrapped in a blanket, looking ashen and worried.

_When Mildred awoke, it was to find herself in her own bed in her mother’s flat. Her mother was dozing in a chair next to her, wrapped in a blanket, looking ashen and worried._

Mildred sat up, alarmed, and looked around for Morgyn and Miss Hardbroom. She tried to scramble out of bed too quickly and fell flat to the floor with a bump, waking Julie up.

“Mildred!” said Julie, rushing over to hug her daughter.

“Mum,” said Mildred, snuggling into her.

“Everything okay?” said a familiar voice from the doorway.

“Miss Drill?” said Mildred in surprise.

“Miss Cackle dispatched me to keep Julie company while you recovered,” said Miss Drill by way of explanation.

“She’s been a godsend,” said Julie appreciatively.

“Where’s Morgyn? And Miss Hardbroom?” asked Mildred, suddenly panicked.

“Miss Hardbroom’s fine,” said Miss Drill soothingly, “took a lot to transport you all back by the sounds of things – though what you were doing in a valley in _Wales_... She been exceptionally cross about having to leave you, but she’s under strict instructions to rest and recuperate,” added Miss Drill with a twinkle in her eyes.

“And as for Morgyn,” said Julie, brushing Mildred’s hair out of her eyes, “she’s asleep in my bed.”

“Mum,” said Mildred, burying herself in her mother’s arms again.

“I’ve got quite a lot of catching up to do,” said Julie sadly, “but I get the feeling Morgyn’s quite special, isn’t she, Millie?”

“She’s- she’s-” Mildred began to say, but found that she was too overwrought.

“It’s alright, love,” said Julie, carrying Mildred back to bed, “I know.”

“I missed her so much,” said Mildred drowsily, “I just didn’t know it.”

“I know, love, I know,” said Julie, biting back tears as her younger daughter fell into a deep sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More is coming - I've already written it, it just needs some adjusting.  
> Thanks for reading this far! :)


	15. January (Part 1)

_Julie Hubble sat in Miss Cackle’s office, looking with mounting incredulous between the bearded face of the Great Wizard, the kindly and emotional face of Ada Cackle and the stiff, straight back of Miss Hardbroom where the woman stood at a window._

“I appreciate that our suggestion might seem insensitive, Ms Hubble,” said the Great Wizard, “but from what we’ve seen of Morgyn’s magic: she has no understanding or respect for The Witches’ Code. The sooner she is guided along a safe path, the better. These suggestions are for her own benefit,” he implored.

“You want her to have… a tutor?” asked Julie.

“It would be more of an apprenticeship,” smiled Miss Cackle.

“She’s thirteen,” said Julie, “And she’s spent twelve years in the Underworld, gathering souls with a band of dead murderers and getting caught up in feuds between Death and The Entities. Goodness only knows what she’s going to think when I tell her you want me to send her away from Mildred and me again,” said Julie.

“Well, now, I think maybe we can help with that,” said the Great Wizard, looking at Ada. “You see, Morgyn needn’t be sent away, she could just as well be here at Cackle’s Academy.”

“But, your Greatness,” said Miss Cackle, “Morgyn Hubble’s magic is far more powerful and advanced than our oldest girls’. She’d walk through just about any standard exam and I can’t help but feel a girl in her position would become destructively bored very quickly.”

“Perhaps,” said the Great Wizard, with a little shrug, “but is it not also true that she would have to work hard to achieve the high standards in potions for which this school is famed? Or that she could not pass a witchery class unless she could demonstrate a complete understanding and respect for the Witches’ Code, which so far she has failed to demonstrate?”

The Great Wizard glanced over at Miss Hardbroom, who turned her head ever so slightly. The evening sun shone on her pale profile, but she did not offer any acknowledgement of the compliment he’d paid her. She appeared to be deep in thought.

“There are very few witches powerful enough to shape Morgyn into the witch she ought to be,” continued the Great Wizard pointedly. “I personally can’t think of anyone better suited.”

“You want _Miss Hardbroom_ to tutor Morgyn?” asked Julie, catching on. “After nearly dying to save my daughters from Death, you just expect her to take on an apprentice?” said Julie disbelievingly.

“Nevertheless,” said the Great Wizard, not concerning himself with this detail, “I am still disposed to think that the safest place for your daughter is wherever Hecate Hardbroom happens to be. But if you all eschew, I strongly suggest that Morgyn be educated in this country, she might not settle if she were far away from her family. If you’d rather, I could send word to the headmistresses of other witching academies and…”

“I am prepared,” said Miss Hardbroom, turning fully from the window, “to instruct Morgyn Hubble.”

“Are you sure, Hecate?” asked Ada, looking at her deputy with pride and concern.

“Yes, Ada,” said Hecate, quietly but firmly, and the look the pair shared was indecipherable to Julie and the Great Wizard.

“And do _you_ agree, Ms Hubble?” asked Ada, turning to Morgyn and Mildred’s mother.

“If you’re willing, Miss Hardbroom - Mildred’s told me you’re a remarkable witch, so I have no doubts about your abilities,” said Julie. “But what _I_ feel about it won’t matter if _Morgyn_ doesn’t agree, and I can’t help feeling like we’re lumbering Miss Hardbroom with the raw end of _that_ deal,” she added dubiously. “Morgyn’s not going to take kindly to anyone making decisions for her – not after what she’s been through,” added Julie, a little darkly.

“That’s another point,” said the Great Wizard, “Morgyn needs more than simply schooling – she shows no inhibitions, she knows little of The Code and what she does know, she chooses not to follow. Currently we have no means of restricting her power. We have already seen that she’s prone to excessive use of magic which leave her weakened. There is, I think, a solution. Ms Hubble, would you be willing to partially release your authority to Hecate?”

“Release my authority?” said Julie, looking alarmed.

“Would you, for example,” continued the Great Wizard serenely, “agree to my drawing up a binding magical document and performing a ceremony, naming Hecate as a joint guardian of Morgyn? With that responsibility, Hecate would have the power to break through the enchantments Morgyn has around her.”

“All that _without_ Morgyn’s permission?” asked Julie, sharing a perturbed look with Hecate.

“Until her twenty-first birthday, if necessary. It would also mean that if any… _thing_ from the Underworld were to try to reach out to Morgyn and pull her back in, Hecate could refuse her permission and keep Morgyn out of harm’s way,” replied the Great Wizard. “It’s old magic - very, _very_ old, in fact - but it’s power is unbendable, even for Morgyn.”

“It wouldn’t change the fact that you were and are and will always be Morgyn’s mother,” said Ada gently. “If your ancestor had not had to give up her magic to restore their founding stone… this would be a simple matter.”

“You mean, if I was a witch, I could protect her myself,” said Julie bluntly. There was an awkward pause.

“Ms Hubble-” began the Great Wizard.

“My dear-” began Miss Cackle.

But Julie held up a hand for silence, and shook her head, a tear running silently down her face.

“You misjudge me,” said Julie, “I want to protect her. I want to protect her more than anything. And I’m not stupid, I _know_ I’m not going to be much help in if The Underworld strikes back. I want you to protect her, I want you to protect them both – Morgyn _and_ Mildred. All the moments we’ve lost already, all the moments Death stopped. And all the other entities – they stole just as many, they let me _forget_ my own baby,” said Julie, she paused for a second or two to regain her calm before she continued.

“We have a second chance. Who can say they’ve been granted something so precious? If I’d been a witch, _I’d_ have been able to protect them both. Morgyn willingly gave her soul, _her whole soul_ , to protect Mildred, do you have _any idea_ …?” Julie gasped. “If sharing my rights will keep her safe for the futures they deserve, then, so help me, I will,” Julie continued, covering her eyes with a hand as her tears fell.

There was a long break in the conversation, in which Miss Cackle stood up and walked around the desk and furnished Julie with a handkerchief and embraced her, gently squeezing her shoulders and murmuring words of comfort to her.

“Am I to understand from this that you would be willing to surrender your parental rights over Mildred, too, should the need arise?” asked the Great Wizard a little later, frowning slightly.

“If you truly can protect them, then freely and willingly I will support you to,” said Julie, still dabbing her eyes,

“Hecate?” said Ada, looking at her deputy.

The tall, dark haired woman had been gazing out into the distance for some time and it took her some moments to collect herself.

“We should consult the girls,” Hecate replied, when she was ready.

Miss Cackle was visibly taken aback - but impressed, nevertheless - with this response.

“But we _still_ cannot summon Morgyn,” said the Great Wizard testily.

“Well, _you_ can’t,” said Julie, sniffing and pulling out her mobile.

**~**

_Mildred lay on the sofa in the Hubble’s flat, wrapped in a duvet, playing on the PlayStation while the radio jingled out festive tunes quietly in the background. Morgyn was at the kitchen table, painting something Mildred couldn’t see._

Now and again, either sister would look up and catch the other one grinning at her. They were alike in appearance – both were thin and gangly and both had long dark hair. Mildred’s flowed freely over her shoulders today, while Morgyn’s was tangled and dreadlocked as usual and held up with ribbons.

Despite recent follies into the world of online shopping, Morgyn dressed like a wild thing struggling to be tamed. Her trousers were baggy and had an Aztec print on them, and her t-shirt showed how toned her muscles were from years of toil in the Forest of Souls. Morgyn favoured dark blue, grey or black in her choice of clothes, while Mildred preferred bright colours.

Mildred’s phone buzzed.

“Mum says she wants us to join her in Miss Cackle’s office,” said Mildred, frowning a little.

“I wondered where she’d got to,” said Morgyn, getting up and coming over to lean on the sofa arm.

“Should I get my broom?” asked Mildred.

“Nah, we’ll go the quick way,” said Morgyn, grinning and pulling on a dark grey zip-up hoodie and tugging her giggling sister to her feet.

“Ready? When I say so, get ready to jump. Aaaaaand jump!” said Morgyn after a pause to muster her energy, and the two girls dissolved into the air.

Mildred and Morgyn landed on the carpet in Miss Cackle’s office. Mildred felt sure that if Morgyn hadn’t been holding onto her, she would have fallen flat on her face there and then. She grinned quickly at her sister to show her she was alright and then turned to the waiting adults.

“Well met, Miss Cackle, Miss Hardbroom, Your Grace,” said Mildred excitedly, bowing to the three magicians in turn with her hand covering her forehead before rushing round the desk to give Miss Cackle a hug and shooting a pleased smile over at her formidable Form Mistress.

Morgyn gave one long, low bow to the room with her hand in the witches’ salute before moving to stand behind Julie’s chair, brushing a hand against her mother’s hair gently in greeting as she did.

“Won’t you all sit down,” said Miss Cackle, waving a hand in the air and summoning three more chairs – one for each of the Hubble girls and one for Miss Hardbroom.

Mildred sat between her mother and the Great Wizard, while Morgyn sat on her mother’s other side at the corner of the desk, next to Miss Hardbroom. Miss Cackle sat back in the headmistress’s throne-like chair and smiled.

“Are we in trouble?” asked Mildred, looking from her mother to Miss Cackle.

“Not at all, dear,” said Miss Cackle. “We’ve been having a discussion with your mother. Shall I continue, Ms Hubble, or would you like a moment with your girls?”

“I think it might be better if you explained the parts you can and leave the fallout to me,” replied Julie warily.

Morgyn was looking from Julie to Miss Hardbroom and back slowly with that same, slightly unnerving, closed-off expression she used for most things on The Surface that she did not understand.

~

“An apprentice?” said Morgyn, unimpressed, a little later.

“It wouldn’t be so bad,” said Mildred. The pair of them had left Miss Cackle’s office to allow the adults time to talk.

“Come on, Millie, I was _already_ an apprentice – in The Underworld – for over a _decade_. What do _I_ want with a magic tutor?”

“You know lots of things, obviously,” said her younger sister fairly, “but there’s bound to be room for improvement somewhere. And you don’t know your Witches’ Code, so the Great Wizard was never going to let you loose in the Surface until he could be sure you weren’t going to go all world domination on him. I wonder if it’ll be him who’s going to be your tutor. You’ve got to promise you’ll at least _try_ it, for me!” her sister added, wrapping her arms around Morgyn’s waist.

Her older sister sighed and wrapped her arms round her shoulders, pressing her cheek to the top of Mildred’s head.

“I don’t know, Millie,” said Morgyn.

The door at the other end of the passage opened and Miss Cackle poked her head out.

“We’re ready for you,” Miss Cackle said brightly.

Mildred capered along the corridor happily while Morgyn paused for a moment, rubbing her arms.

In Miss Cackle’s office, all four of the adults were standing. Miss Cackle and the Great Wizard were smiling benevolently, while Julie flashed Morgyn one of her quick, beautiful smiles as she followed her sister through the door. Morgyn watched as the Great Wizard rolled up a document and promptly made it disappear, and Morgyn felt an anxious knot settle in her stomach.

“I don’t think I need a tutor,” stammered Morgyn, tensing and flexing her hands into fists nervously.

“Morgyn, just listen to what they have to say,” pleaded Mildred.

“It would be absurd, I’m not from this world, not really,” said Morgyn defensively.

“All the more reason for you to have someone to guide you, dear,” said Miss Cackle kindly.

“I don’t want guiding,” said Morgyn, her voice strangely high-pitched.

“It’s okay to be nervous, love,” said Julie soothingly.

“You’ve come to a decision already, haven’t you?” asked Morgyn, resisting the urge to dissolve before anyone could answer.

“Yes, I have,” said Julie. “Love, come here, I want you to know something first.”

Morgyn moved to stand in front of her mother uncertainly.

“You know, these last few weeks, with just the three of us, with Yule and Hogmanay, they’ve been the _best_. And I couldn’t be happier or prouder of my girls,” said Julie, laying her hands on Morgyn’s upper arms and squeezing gently.

“But you know, as well as I do, that you coming home hasn’t just meant changes for us. It’s rocked the magic world too,” said Julie, brushing a strand of Morgyn’s wild hair out of her eyes.

“What are you saying, Mum?” asked Mildred.

Julie slipped a hand into Morgyn’s left hand and took Mildred’s right with her other.

“I’ve made some decisions for our family, and they affect all of us,” said Julie, looking between her girls as she spoke, “and I want you to know that I’ve made them because I love you, and I want you to be safe,” she said.

“But you’re sending me away, aren’t you?” said Morgyn, willing herself to pull her hand away from her mother’s, but not finding the strength to do so. “You don’t want me after all.”

“I do,” said Julie aghast, “oh, gods, how I do,” she added, suddenly pulling Morgyn into a fierce hug.

“Your mother has, however, listened to our recommendations, that she place your magical care, guidance and upbringing in the hands of a tutor,” put in Miss Cackle.

“It’s the wisest choice, and a solution which should make this transition as smooth as possible for you, Miss Hubble,” said Hellebore.

“In an apprenticeship?” said Morgyn thickly, trying to hold in her tears as Julie released her.

“More than that, we talked about it, and your mother agrees that it would be best if that tutor could also have more of a… protective responsibility too.”

“What do you mean?” asked Mildred, sensing that the adults weren’t saying something.

“Let’s not get bogged down in that now,” said the Great Wizard, “simply, it means that your responsible adult would be as magical as you are.”

“And how do we choose this person?” asked Morgyn, fixing her eyes on her mother’s face, the hint of a glare beginning to grow on her usually impassive features.

“It’s Miss Hardbroom,” said Julie.

Morgyn froze. Clearly, whatever she had been expecting, it wasn’t that. She turned her head on one side, frowning.

“I never saw any of this,” said Morgyn, her eyes unfocused.

“What do you mean?” asked Mildred.

“When you started here, I never foresaw me coming here too,” said Morgyn vaguely.

“Yeah, but the way _I_ came here was a bit of a natural disaster,” said Mildred, rolling her eyes and patting her sister’s arm.

“No, it _wasn’t_ ,” said Morgyn in a surprisingly irritable tone, coming out of her trance-like state. “It was very, _very_ deliberate.”

“What?” gasped everyone, except Hecate.

Hecate instead settled her most icy glare on Morgyn’s face and took a step towards her.

“Enlighten us,” she said, her voice all at once soft and thunderous.

“I had an agreement with Fate,” said Morgyn in a rush because she had the sudden, strange sensation of having put her foot in it but not knowing how, “that she would make sure Destiny was looking the other way while she made Maud Spellbody’s glasses fall off, so Maud would crash onto our balcony on Selection Day. I hoped and hoped that I’d picked the right girl and that Mildred’d go along and help her, because she wouldn’t be able to fly without someone else,” explained Morgyn, rubbing her arm sheepishly.

“And, dare I ask, what _Fate_ asked for in return?” asked Miss Hardbroom incredulously, taking another step towards the dreadlocked teen.

“I had to hold off gathering the souls of nine mermaids in a flash flood for an extra week because Fate wanted to play five-a-side water polo with them at Midsummer… that was Fate’s price for the favour,” said Morgyn, blushing even as she shrugged helplessly and tried to take a step backwards, only to find a bookshelf in the way.

“Un-be-liev-able,” breathed Hecate, her eyes flashing dangerously above Morgyn’s head.

“To be fair,” said Morgyn, with a faint smirk, “the mermaids didn’t seem that upset about the arrangement.”

Hecate gave her an ice-cold glare and Morgyn sucked in her lip and tried unsuccessfully to look contrite, a small smirk flitting across her lips tentatively.

“ _You_ did that?” said Mildred, sounding both shocked and impressed.

“How _else_ was I meant to ensure you got to a witching academy on a Selection Day?” said Morgyn, turning to her sister.

“Do you mean to tell me, girl, that you endangered the life of another witch to meet your own ends?” asked the Great Wizard, apoplectic with rage.

“She _can_ learn our ways, Your Greatness,” Ada interjected.

“I did,” put in Mildred humbly, coming forwards and putting her hand into Morgyn’s.

“But I never saw myself as part of this future. It can’t work,” said Morgyn insistently, frowning again. “Besides, I’m not you, Millie, I haven’t a heart like yours,” Morgyn said quietly, looking down at their joined hands.

“I’m sorry,” Morgyn said, and she kissed Mildred’s forehead and slipped instantly between Mildred and Miss Hardbroom, dissolving out of existence.

“Morgyn!” cried Mildred, dismayed, clutching at the air where her sister had been.

“She doesn’t appear to be taking this very well,” said Miss Cackle to the Great Wizard.

Miss Hardbroom folded her arms and sighed audibly.

“Where’s she off to?” Julie said to Mildred.

“How should I know?” said Mildred, near to tears.

“While I may live to regret this, I feel bound to point out that all of her objections strike me as self-deprecations,” Hecate said to Ada and Julie, “do you believe that she has any reasonable arguments against this apprenticeship?”

“I think she’s on the verge of becoming her own kind of lost soul, and if she’s not aware of it, she will soon be out of her depth,” said Ada honestly.

“And I think she’s strong, but not nearly as tough as she thinks she is,” said Julie.

“You mean she talks a good talk, but she’s scared?” asked Ada. Julie nodded.

“You are her mother,” replied Hecate, “if _anyone_ would know...”

“And she’s only thirteen,” said Julie, rubbing her eyes with her palms. “So, this, really, is our call.”

“Mum, we have to help her, we can’t let her go again,” said Mildred desperately.

“What do you think?” said Julie, gazing at the tall dark-haired witch.

“I think… Morgyn will likely tear herself apart if she’s not taught to regulate and restrain her powers,” said Hecate pensively, “and I, for one, could never live with myself, knowing what we know, if I didn’t strive to prevent that from happening.”

“It’s as bad as that, then?” concluded Julie. “You know, I have no right to ask, and you have every right to refuse.”

“This isn’t a right, it’s a duty,” replied Hecate, “a hallowed and complex one, and I understand that it will be demanding, not least because this girl is a Hubble. But I need you to understand this, Ms Hubble: while I will do my utmost to keep her safe from outside influences, I cannot guarantee Morgyn will remain safe from herself.”

“And whatever you need, you need only ask,” said Julie.

“If we are all in agreement, we should conclude the ceremony,” said the Great Wizard, meaningfully.

“As this is a matter for mothers and witches, Egbert, if _I_ may?” said Ada, looking seriously over her spectacles at the man.

The Great Wizard looked as if he was about to object, but thought better of it in light of the presence of the assembled company. He cleared his throat and nodded.

“If you would stand here, Ms Hubble, and Hecate, here,” said Miss Cackle calmly, positioning the two women to face one another after a moment.

“I’m afraid this will be a little painful,” she added, as she drew a letter-opener from her desk and took one of Julie’s hands gently in her own.

Miss Cackle pierced a thin line across the palms of both Julie’s hands and did the same to Hecate’s.

“Join your hands,” said Miss Cackle, “and Egbert has written what you must say here,” she added, laying a piece of paper on the desk between them where they could both read it.

Julie, lacing her fingers through Hecate’s and holding tightly, spoke first:

“ _My blood and my right,_

_Freely I bestow:_

_My blood shall protect_

_and my child shall grow.”_

Hecate replied:

_“Willingly I accept_

_And freely I do:_

_All dangers shall I carry_

_as my own.”_

Mildred was quite disappointed that there was no flash of light or great bell of recognition to follow these words, but she saw as the two adults dropped hands that the cuts across their palms had vanished and there was no scarring to show for it. Mildred frowned, very confused.

“Are you alright, my dears,” said Miss Cackle, taking Hecate and Julie lightly by an elbow each. Both looked at each other quizzically before nodding.

“Then, Hecate, would you mind bringing Morgyn back to us?” said Miss Cackle.

Miss Hardbroom stepped away from the desk, flexed her fingers and made a vague snatching motion towards the ground, as though she were bouncing an invisible yo-yo, and Morgyn was dragged through the magical ether and back into the office with a thump.

“Ouch,” puffed Morgyn, rolling over and massaging her ribs, “you definitely shouldn’t be able to do _that_ here,” she added, looking up at Miss Hardbroom mutinously, and then rolling away again and out of existence.

Miss Hardbroom looked at Miss Cackle briefly, before making the same slight movement and dragging Morgyn through the ether and depositing her on the carpet again. This time Morgyn pushed herself fully off the floor and tried to stare down Miss Hardbroom.

“How are you doing that? _You_ _can’t?_ ” said Morgyn, and they all saw this time that there were tears running down her face, and she stepped back as if to try once more. Miss Hardbroom raised an index finger.

“You have not been dismissed,” she said silkily.

“I don’t need-” Morgyn began, but then stopped, spluttering, as she realised that she could not dissolve herself. Wildly, she turned this way and that, trying to find a way round the invisible magic that held her there.

“This isn’t possible, you’re not from the Underworld!” Morgyn said, giving up for the moment and anxiously pacing around Miss Hardbroom as she spoke.

“No, she isn’t,” said the Great Wizard smugly.

Morgyn looked at him and then at Miss Cackle.

“Is someone going to tell me what’s going on?” Morgyn asked restlessly, raising a hand as if to poke Miss Hardbroom’s arm experimentally but thinking better of it and running her hands through her own hair fiercely instead.

“Gladly,” said Miss Cackle, coming around and perching on the end of her desk next to Julie – who had her face in her hands. “You are now under Miss Hardbroom’s protection.”

“As such,” interposed the Great Wizard, “if she summons you, you will come. If she does not wish you to leave, you will be unable to.”

“Miss Hardbroom will be your first defence and your last court of appeal,” continued Ada.

“And you will be under her care for as long as she sees fit,” added the Great Wizard.

“I don’t understand… unless… oh, ye gods, Julie, _you didn’t?_ ” said Morgyn, finally stopping her pacing around Miss Hardbroom and looking at Julie, dumbfounded.

“It’s the safest solution, Morgie, and when you’ve calmed down enough, you’ll see it too,” said Julie, raising her head and looking her angry elder daughter in the eye.

“What’s happening?” asked Mildred, frowning.

“Blood magic,” groaned Morgyn bitterly, holding her temples while she concentrated. “It feels like – like a guardianship enchantment! A blood bond that gives _her_ power over me,” added Morgyn, indicating Miss Hardbroom with a jerk of her head.

“Morgyn,” said Julie warningly.

Morgyn looked at her mother, seeing disappointment mixed in with crossness at Morgyn’s attitude displayed on her face.

“How would you feel if it was you?” retorted Morgyn resentfully, starting to pace again and tugging at her hair fretfully.

“Morgyn,” said Julie pacifyingly, “despite everything you’ve been through, you’re still a junior witch: you will be until you’re twenty-one. I’m not saying any of this is going to be easy, quite the opposite in fact.”

Julie jumped off the desk and gripped her daughter’s arms tightly when the girl did not stop pacing. 

“Morgyn Hubble,” she said, her voice low and insistent in a way it never usually was, “you will _always_ have _all_ of me: my whole heart, my whole support and my whole faith – but that doesn’t change the fact that you’ve had the roughest time in the Underworld. You’re going to need more specialised guidance than I can give to adjust to the witching world, and you _need_ someone who understands your gifts for what they are,” Julie concluded, and released her daughter and stepping back.

Tears spilled from Morgyn’s eyes. She inhaled deeply but knew she could not formulate a coherent argument. She had already exposed Julie’s weak spot, and it was her. She ran her hands deep into her hair again and pulled it sharply for a few seconds. Then she turned and looked in Hecate’s direction.

“Please accept my apologies,” said Morgyn evenly, unable to look Miss Hardbroom directly in the eye as fresh tears still rolled down her cheeks. “The sacrifices you’ve made for my family are immeasurable, and I was wrong to speak lightly of them.”

“I shall expect regular reports, Hecate,” interposed the Great Wizard placidly. “If Morgyn’s behaviour towards you is unbearable, I want to know about it,” he said, looking sternly at Morgyn as he spoke.

“And so do I,” said Julie meaningfully.

Still, Miss Hardbroom said nothing and continued to gaze at Morgyn thoughtfully.

“I’m sure it won’t come to that,” said Miss Cackle firmly.

The Great Wizard huffed and Julie sighed.

“What happens now?” asked Mildred uncertainly, after a few moments silence.

Morgyn wiped her tears away with her sleeve hastily and dug her hands into her pockets.

“Well, the new term starts on Monday,” said Miss Cackle brightly, “so I think it would be entirely fitting if Morgyn’s apprenticeship started then. I expect your mother and Hec- _Miss_ Hardbroom can come to some arrangements about the details,” she said, as if the interview was finished.

Morgyn had a thousand and one questions she wanted to ask, but when she glanced up at the pale, unreadable face of Miss Hardbroom – whose eyes had never wavered from boring into the top of Morgyn’s head – she felt that it would be some time before anyone would give her the answers she sought.

“Miss Hardbroom, I wonder if you might show Morgyn around and then transport the Hubbles home? I would like a word with His Grace before he leaves,” asked Miss Cackle, going back to her desk.

“Certainly, Headmistress,” said Miss Hardbroom, still gazing down at Morgyn.

“You’re coming to Cackle’s with me,” said Mildred grinning and taking her sister’s hand and pulling her reluctantly along as Miss Hardbroom and Julie walked along quietly behind them.

“I really hope you do know what you’re doing,” said Julie quietly, as the two of them watched Mildred rushing around the herb garden in the dusky light a little while later.

Morgyn watched as her sister pointing out various things, looking as uncomfortable as it was possible for a teenager to look.

“Are you having second thoughts?” asked Miss Hardbroom.

“You’re a remarkable witch,” Julie said with a shrug, “but with Morgyn, it won’t just be about magic.”

“I am aware,” said Miss Hardbroom coolly.

Julie crossed her arms and looked questioningly at the taller woman beside her.

“She will learn, Ms Hubble. It is our way,” Miss Hardbroom said simply, and then she turned to the two Hubble girls and crooked a long, thin finger and they both approached immediately.

“Until the new term,” said Miss Hardbroom, “farewell, Ms Hubble. Morgyn Hubble, refrain from any dangerous magic meantime, I shall know if you do not and I shall be exceedingly displeased. Keep your sister out of trouble,” she added, looking down at Mildred and Morgyn but not specifying to which of them she was speaking.

Mildred smiled sheepishly while Morgyn raised her eyebrows and looked at Mildred, not understanding the bond between them.


	16. January (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wind was sharp and biting, and the students of Cackle’s Academy were glad to be allowed indoors to unpack.
> 
> Morgyn starts her new apprenticeship, and find that things may not be as smooth sailing as she hoped they'd be on the Surface.

_The wind was sharp and biting, and the students of Cackle’s Academy were glad to be allowed indoors to unpack._

“What am I supposed to _do_ all day? I’ve not spent so long in one dimension for _years,_ ” Morgyn asked Mildred testily.

It was the first day of term and Mildred, Maud and Enid were showing Morgyn round again.

“You’re HB’s apprentice,” laughed Enid, “you’re going to be _very_ busy.”

“I don’t understand what that means,” Morgyn said quietly to Mildred when the other two had pulled ahead to talk to Mr Rowan-Webb.

“It’s okay,” said Mildred, putting her hand into her sister’s. “I’ll look after you.”

“But I’m _your_ older sister, it’s _my_ job to look after _you_ ,” said Morgyn, looking genuinely perplexed.

Mildred smiled faintly and squeezed her hand.

“You’re doing great,” Mildred said.

“Morgyn Hubble?” called Miss Drill. The two girls looked up. “Miss Hardbroom wants you in the library, chop chop.”

“Do you know the way?” asked Mildred.

Morgyn nodded, a small smile on her face. After twelve years navigating the terrors and tempests of space and time, she really didn’t need anyone to show her round a witching academy.

“See you later,” said Mildred, grinning and rushing off after Maud and Enid.

Morgyn raised a hand to the nearest wall and drew a small circle there, which pulsed faintly a few times.

“Lead me, _lux_ , to the library,” she whispered.

The light, which was barely perceptible to the naked eye, shot along the wall in a straight line and Morgyn followed it down the corridor, up the stairs and to the library. She pushed the door open and went in, feeling the hush of the place fall around her like a welcome even as the wash of bygone spells whispered to her from the shelves.

“Morgyn Hubble?” said a short, grey haired witch.

“Yes,” said Morgyn.

“Miss Hardbroom sent you? You’re to study here this morning,” said the little witch.

“Oh, I see,” said Morgyn, looking around the quiet library, where a few older students were pouring over books.

“I’m the librarian, Mistress Bourgogne,” said the witch.

“Well met,” said Morgyn distractedly. “Is Hecate going to be joining us?”

“Not as far as I know. She left me with a list of things for you to be getting along with,” said Mistress Bourgogne. Morgyn looked down at her then.

“List of… things?” she queried.

“Yes, you’ve got reading to do,” said Mistress Bourgogne. “Miss Hardbroom will be testing your witch history next week.”

“She does realise that’s a little ironic, doesn’t she?” said Morgyn, raising an eyebrow.

Mistress’s Bourgogne did not seem to appreciate the joke.

“And if you get through that, there are plenty of things needing mended around the place – I can’t do it all myself, I’ve told Miss Cackle that often enough,” said Mistress Bourgogne, turning away from Morgyn and beckoning for her to follow.

“Just one last thing,” said Mistress Bourgogne, halting suddenly and turning back, “Miss Hardbroom told me to pass on her instruction: absolutely no unsupervised magic.”

“Absolutely no… what?” gaped Morgyn.

“You heard,” said Mistress Bourgogne, waggling a finger at Morgyn irritatingly.

“That’s ridiculous,” said Morgyn.

“Take it up with Miss Hardbroom,” said Mistress Bourgogne, her eyes crinkling as she cracked a smile for the first time.

~

_In a few hours, Morgyn had read several inaccurate accounts of witch history in the various texts that Miss Bourgogne had given her._

Miss Hardbroom had simply told the librarian which time periods she wished Morgyn to focus on and left the choice of reading material to the latter. Morgyn pushed back her chair and looked around the librarian’s cramped office. She wanted to tell Miss Bourgogne that her books were wrong, but the librarian was nowhere to be seen.

Morgyn padded through the quiet library until she came to the history section. She climbed the step ladder and, taking books from the shelves, broadened her research. She sat cross legged at the top of the wooden ladder. There she stayed for hours, creating two piles: books that were right and books that were wrong.

“Miss Hubble, where are you?” called Mistress Bourgogne. “What are you doing up there?”

Morgyn didn’t look round, she was frowning at the text she was reading.

“This pile has a fake description of the Siren Sisters,” she replied, indicating the numerous books levitating on her left, her eyes skimming over the pages of the book she held, “and this pile has an accurate description,” continued Morgyn, indicating a single book floating on her right. “You ought to get rid of most of these, they’re either riddled with factual inaccuracies or plainly drivellous,” Morgyn added, waving a hand at the books on her left again.

“How very dare you!” said Mistress Bourgogne, affronted.

Morgyn looked round then, not understanding what the librarian was upset about. It was then that she noticed Hecate standing next to Mistress Bourgogne: arms folded, expression displeased. The levitating books crashed to the ground when Morgyn remembered, all too late, that this counted as unsupervised magic.

Her tutor made a slow, deliberate, beckoning movement with a finger and Morgyn came down the step ladder swifter than bat drool to stand before her.

“You will clear up this mess and join Miss Drill in overseeing the junior school lunch hour.”

“But when-” Morgyn began to ask.

“Enough,” snapped Miss Hardbroom, “you will also apologise to Mistress Bourgogne, immediately,” she added, her icy look making Morgyn back away a little.

“I thought you wanted to test my witch history?” asked Morgyn in a small voice, confused, clenching and flexing her hands anxiously.

There was stony silence and Miss Hardbroom’s glare became even more frosty.

“But these books, they’re wrong,” said Morgyn, gesturing to the mountain that had been the left-hand levitating pile. “I was _there_ , I saw what happened,” pleaded Morgyn, scrabbling for the single book she knew had an accurate representation of the Chronicles of the Siren Sisters.

Her tutor seemed to have momentarily frozen to the spot. If Morgyn had been Mildred, she would have seen that Miss Hardbroom was seconds from having steam coming out of her ears. Instead, Morgyn held out the book to her tutor nervously.

“It wasn’t the way you think it was,” said Morgyn in a quiet voice, stepping closer to her tutor.

“And, pray, how would you know what I think?” replied Miss Hardbroom coldly.

“Well,” said Morgyn uncertainly, feeling like this was all going wrong too quickly but shuffling closer to Hecate anyway, “you don’t strike me as someone who likes to be wrong and these books are wrong about this.”

Mistress Bourgogne’s eyes were very wide as she looked at Morgyn. She had gone from looking offended to thoroughly stunned that the girl couldn’t see she was playing with fire.

“History is only a matter of opinion if you didn’t actually _witness_ it,” continued Morgyn softly, as if she only wanted Hecate to hear, her tone a little desperate because she didn’t seem to be able to make herself clear.

Miss Hardbroom took a deep breath and seemed to regain some of her composure, and she too took a step closer to Morgyn to loom over the girl.

“I am bringing forward your history test. You will be tested at nine o’clock tomorrow morning,” hissed Miss Hardbroom to her apprentice, just as quietly.

“You will also take five hundred lines - _‘I will not use magic unsupervised’ –_ for my desk by noon tomorrow and you will apologise to Mistress Bourgogne, _now,”_ continued Miss Hardbroom, raising a finger to silence any argument Morgyn might have had.

Morgyn tilted her chin up to Miss Hardbroom hopefully, her eyes at their most wide and beseeching and sucked her bottom lip nervously, but the older witch didn’t bat an eyelid and her silent resolve finally won out over Morgyn’s.

“I’m sorry I wrecked your library,” said Morgyn to Mistress Bourgogne at last, hugging the book clumsily, feeling a range of emotions that she hadn’t felt since getting free of Death’s clutches.

Miss Bourgogne could see that she meant it and she nodded her approval. Miss Hardbroom curled a hand and disappeared, leaving Morgyn strangely missing the nearness of her presence while she tidied up the mountain of books and only half-listened to a tirade from the librarian about “ _young people these days_ ”.

Morgyn trudged off to the dining hall next to seek out Miss Drill and find out what it was she was meant to be doing now. It transpired that Morgyn had the very boring job of supervising the queues of junior students waiting for their nearly-inedible lunch from Mrs Tapioca.

Morgyn leant against a wall and played with the end of one of her dreadlocks absentmindedly. She’d never spent so many hours cooped up in one place before and yearned to run out of the front gates, to the cool dark forest nearby, and lose herself for a while.

“Hubble! You’re supposed to be on hand to _avoid_ any fights,” called Miss Drill as she separated two first years who had been pushing each other.

Morgyn blinked and came back to herself and looked meekly at Miss Drill.

“Oh, I give in, you’ve not got the attention span,” said Miss Drill, seeing the Hubble Emotion Manipulator being displayed, and waving Morgyn away. “Go on, out, you can get your lunch from the kitchens, and hell mend you if Miss Hardbroom finds out.”

Morgyn walked away, feeling a little ashamed of her performance. She paused, considering her options. Without magic, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to find the kitchens, and she didn’t trust anyone but Mildred. She didn’t feel terribly hungry, so she escaped upstairs to her new room.

She took a snack bar out of her suitcase and sat on the window ledge, looking out at the sky. It wasn’t a very bright day and there had been a little bit of frost on the ground that morning. Morgyn looked over to her skyboard longingly.

Julie and Mildred, in between teaching her about lots of new and interesting things like _manners,_ electricity and popular culture _,_ had warned her: there were _rules_ at Cackle’s, that she might have to learn to fly a broomstick, that she shouldn’t expect Miss Hardbroom to be sympathetic to a young sky-surfing aficionado. Morgyn longed deeply for the safety of the sky. Sighing, she curled up on the window ledge with the empty snack bar wrapper in her hand and fell asleep, dreaming longingly of air currents and thermals.

~

_Later, Morgyn felt herself being shaken awake. She sat up, breathed like she had been drowning, and stared at the newcomer with wide eyes._

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” said the girl, “but HB wants you to join the Fourth Years for herb gathering this afternoon, and she’ll have a fit if you’re not there when she comes to check. _And_ if she catches you having snacks in your room.”

“Oh,” said Morgyn, rubbing her eyes clumsily.

“I’m Esmerelda Hallow, well met,” said the girl.

“Morgyn Hubble.”

“I know your sister,” said Esme.

“It’s coming back to me now,” said Morgyn, “Mildred said Ethel is always trying to get her expelled, but that she likes you and… Sybil?”

“I wouldn’t know about that,” said Esme modestly. “But, seriously, come on, you’re already late.”

Morgyn got up and was shocked when she felt the pull of Esmerelda transferring them both to the greenhouse.

“Can all the fourth years do that?” asked Morgyn.

“No,” said Esme. “Sorry, I ought to have asked you first. You don’t get sick or anything, do you?”

“No, it’s okay when you do it. I can do something similar, but I’m not allowed right now,” said Morgyn, rubbing the back of her neck. “What are lines?” she asked abruptly.

“You mean, on a page?” asked Esme.

“Hecate said I had to take five hundred lines for her desk tomorrow at noon, what did she mean?”

“You’re joking, right? Oh, it means you have to write something out on paper, without magic, that many times.”

“Really?” said Morgyn. “What’s the point?”

“I’m not sure there is one,” said Esme, shrugging, “it’s meant to take up your free time. I’ve seen HB put so many people’s lines into vanishment right after they handed them to her. It’s a punishment.”

“What a waste,” said Morgyn, screwing up her nose.

“We’d better hurry up, the others will be almost finished by now,” said Esme.

Morgyn followed her new-found rescuer around the grounds and soon they were talking easily.

“The Forest of Souls doesn’t have anything like this amount of colour variation,” said Morgyn, frowning at Esme’s textbook of herbs.

“What’s it like there?” said Esme, sitting down on a bench by an evergreen hedge.

“It’s a bit like a real forest, obviously,” said Morgyn, sitting down next to her and leaning back to look up at the sky. “For the most part, it’s very big, very dark and very old. I’ve never been to the centre, because there’s not enough space to pass between the trees. They’ve grown so tall and thick that you’d have to climb the lower trunks and sling ropes to make your way through and there are all sorts of dangerous creatures that live in the dark there. The Soul Gatherer lives in the centre somewhere too, but I’ve never seen what it’s like there either.”

“Where did you live?” asked Esme, wrapping her arms around her legs and looking at Morgyn over her knees.

“Each of us, One, Two, Three and me, had about a fifth of the forest to tend to. I was in the North, One was in the South, Two the West and Three the East. One had been there the longest and his land was filled with very old trees that grew so quickly that they’d snatch you up if you weren’t careful. One had built a shelter there out of things he’d picked up along the centuries. It wasn’t a big place, but it suited his personality. We weren’t meant to bring things back, but everyone did. There were so many other rules that were more important. Two had the West of the forest to himself. I didn’t like it over there. The trees were sharp and the wind howled every night and it was a horrible place to lose yourself. Two lived in a shack there. Three had the East, and that was okay, it had younger trees than One or Two’s land, but they were ill and unhappy saplings and he was always frustrated that they didn’t grow as fast as One’s. The trees were souls, you know. Each one had to be gathered carefully and planted according to the Soul Gatherer’s map.”

“What about the North?” asked Esmerelda quietly.

“It was a strange place… the trees were different there. Most were quite little, and they were all different colours. It was bright by comparison to the rest of the Forest. I had a hammock. I hadn’t really much time for sneaking things through the portals, and I wasn’t there for the same reasons as the others. I wasn’t afraid, like them. I don’t say that because I’m brave, I just always knew that living in this world without Mildred would be worse than anything in the Underworld.”

“And what about the work?” asked Esme.

“I didn’t exactly enjoy that… It was complicated,” said Morgyn.

“I can help you with your herbs, if you want, I know HB’s planning to test your potions this week. But we should get going,” said Esme, sensing that Morgyn had said all she wanted to say on the subject, “I have choir practise, and Mr Rowan-Webb wants you to help him with an experiment.”

~

_Morgyn lent silently in the doorway of Mr Rowan-Webb’s classroom and watched the man as he set out various ingredients._

“Hello, young Hubble, you’d better come in,” said the wizard, without turning.

“Mildred said you were good,” said Morgyn, shifting her weight from the doorframe and cautiously walking over to the bench the wizard was working at.

“Hmmm!” said the wizard cheerfully. “Funny, that’s exactly what she said about you.”

“She’s a good kid,” said Morgyn.

“And a promising witch,” said Mr Rowan-Webb.

“She’s a Hubble,” said Morgyn casually.

“Indeed, she is,” agreed the wizard, “and that’s why I want you to help me with my experiment.”

“I’m not like Mildred, you know,” said Morgyn, warily.

“Aren’t you?” said Mr Rowan-Webb. “Well, let’s see what you’re made of. I want to strengthen the school’s safety spells. Will you assist?”

Morgyn nodded, and the two began to work. Morgyn, under careful direction, prepared the ingredients for the complicated spell, while the wizard worked at the cauldron. All the time, Rowan-Webb chattered, telling stories about his youth and his time as a frog. He was a funny, kind and odd little man, and Morgyn soon became relaxed around him.

“You know, I’ve heard thousands of life stories from witches and wizards,” said Morgyn at length. “But this is the first time that I will ever see the person who told their story again. Thank you,” she added sincerely.

“How poignant! And you’re very welcome,” said Mr Rowan-Webb. “Now, I think we’d better get this lot into the thurible and start our walk around the perimeter wall. Don’t worry, I’ve cleared it with Miss Hardbroom.”

Morgyn carefully carried the thurible, which was a great, heavy, gold affair with a long chain, while Mr Rowan-Webb took the ingredients they had infused and dried in a special box and picked a volume of chants from the bookshelf behind his desk.

“Wouldn’t it be stronger to have the whole school chanting?” asked Morgyn.

“Possibly,” conceded the wizard, “but you’re talking about a powerful, raw source. Young magic can be erratic. Take you sister, for example: she’d hardly known she was a witch for a day and already she’d caused several disasters.”

“She always means well,” said Morgyn loyally.

“It’s a family trait,” said Mr Rowan-Webb, a twinkle in his eye.

When they reached the edge of the perimeter, Mr Rowan-Webb filled and lit the thurible and handed it to Morgyn, who swung it gently back and forth on its chain until the smoke started to filter out gently through the gold.

“Now, how’s about you perform that little mapping spell I saw you use in the hall-way earlier: find the perimeter line and follow it. I’ll follow behind and do the chanting. Even if your arm gets sore, whatever you do, don’t stop!” said Mr Rowan-Webb.

Morgyn obliged and they began their strange procession of two around the grounds – Morgyn in front, swinging the thurible gently back and forth, and Mr Rowan-Webb following and chanting in old English. The twilight gathered around them as they processed at a stately pace and Morgyn felt a peaceful hush fall over the school as the students went to dinner.

It took, Morgyn reckoned by the fading light, two hours to complete the perimeter walk and as they nearer the spot from which they’d started, Morgyn saw her own map magic still lingering faintly on the grass and saw that the smoke, deeply infused with magic, still hung in the air after all that time. Her arms were tired and her face glistened with the effort of swinging the hot thurible for so long, but nothing would have stopped Morgyn from completing the circuit. As they reached the spot they’d started at, Mr Rowan-Webb motioned to her to complete the circle and stand still. Morgyn stood there reverently, swinging the thurible back and forth on the spot, while the wizard completed his chant.

Finally, Rowan-Webb reached into a pocket of his robes and produced a small hand bell, which he rang three times. The tinkling sound faded into the quiet grounds and at last the wizard fell silent. He turned to Morgyn, grinning.

“Well done,” he said. “Now, Gwen has promised to host us for tea in her rooms, will you join me? I’m parched.”

Morgyn grinned too, for the first time since coming to Cackle’s Academy.

“There are not many people,” Mr Rowan-Webb said a little later, when they had returned the empty thurible to his classroom and were sitting with Miss Bat in her rooms, “who would have taken part in that spell without complaining or questioning why, Morgyn.”

“Millie trusts you,” said Morgyn, shrugging. “And besides, I’ve seen my fair share of protective chants over the years.”

“You’ve had a very interesting life, my dear,” said Miss Bat, “did you really listen to the last testaments of every magician you ever Gathered?”

“Apart from when I was very small,” said Morgyn. “I had to go around with the Soul Gatherer for the first few years to learn the ropes. He didn’t talk to the Souls to begin with. But once I was old enough, I found they wanted to talk to us. We always asked them the same questions, One, Two, Three and me. And, in one way or another, they’d tell us their whole life story. When I was seven, I was given my own patch of The Forest to tend to, and I was given the task of Gathering the magicians. There were lots and lots, I jumped through time and space portals every day, it wasn’t at all linear-”

Morgyn stopped. She had been speaking in a dream-like way without realising. She felt tremendously at-one with the Surface world tonight, and she had no doubt it was because of the incensing ceremony she had assisted in earlier. But that was no excuse to become careless, she warned herself.

“And what about the others, whom did they Gather?” asked Mr Rowan-Webb.

“The Forest was in sections,” said Morgyn, rubbing her eyes wearily, “there was a sort of system, but it was the Soul Gatherer’s own. All I know is that we each had a particular attribute to Gather. Mine was magic. The others never talked about theirs. It was personal, I think, because the Soul Gatherer chose each of them for a reason. None of us ever gathered children, except the Gatherer himself. Those souls became sacred trees, and he wouldn’t trust anyone else with them. The Triad reckon that’s what’s at the centre of The Forest – a woodland of sacred young soul trees - which is why no one else is allowed there.”

“I’m glad of that,” said Morgyn, after a pause, “I shouldn’t like to think of anyone trampling through that place without understanding what it is.”

The three magicians sat in silence for a while, each reflecting on this statement in their own way.

“And now that you’re here, dear,” said Miss Bat at length, offering Morgyn another sandwich from the plate, “what do you hope to do in the future?”

“I… hadn’t really given it any thought,” said Morgyn truthfully, looking with interest at the coronation chicken filling.

“Oh, come now,” said Mr Rowan-Webb, sharing a knowing look with Miss Bat, “you must’ve met hundreds of witches and wizards over the years, surely you’ve seen one job you liked the look of?”

“Well,” said Morgyn thoughtfully, “I suppose there is one thing. My sky-board,” she explained, “I took the wood from the 12th century and I treated it with care and magic and now it flies as well as any broom. I was thinking, maybe I could be an inventor.”

Morgyn blushed deeply, as this was the first time she had admitted this out loud.

“I think that’s a splendid idea,” said Miss Bat, giving Morgyn a lovely, crinkly old smile.

“As do I,” said Mr Rowan-Webb, smiling too and offering Morgyn a bowl of fruit salad for dessert.

“Will Hecate… let me, do you suppose?” asked Morgyn tentatively, after a pause. “I’ve so much to learn. Mildred says she doesn’t think I’ll be allowed to use my skyboard here.”

“Miss Hardbroom’s a stickler for the traditions,” said Mr Rowan-Webb, “but if she can be convinced to keep your little sister on after all the chaos she’s caused, I’m sure she can be brought round to thinking favourably of sky-boards.”

“But don’t rush in,” said Miss Bat. “Hecate Hardbroom really is the best magician we’ve ever had teaching here, but she’s wary of things that challenge our traditions. Give her time.”

“Speaking of time, you’d better run along to your room, young Morgyn Hubble,” said Mr Rowan-Webb, catching sight of the time. “Miss Hardbroom decrees, as you’re thirteen, you ought to be going to bed at the same time as the third years, and I shouldn’t like to cross her.”

“Here you are, take a copy of this chanting book – I’ll give you a week or two to get settled before we start our sessions,” said Miss Bat, summoning a book from her shelf, “and you might want to run a flannel across your face too, young lady, before a certain witch sees you: you’re a little sooty,” she added pointedly.

“Uh, yes, right,” said Morgyn, getting to her feet, “and, thank you, for everything,” she said humbly, holding the chanting book reverently.

When Morgyn had left, closing the door behind her, the old couple sat quietly together drinking tea.

“You know, Algie, we’re going to have to talk to Hecate about this,” said Gwen thoughtfully.

“I was afraid you were going to say that,” sighed the wizard. “You know she’s never going to allow it.”

“Leave it with me,” said Miss Bat, in one of her rare moments of absolute lucidity.


	17. January (Part 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgyn couldn’t sleep. Her mind buzzed and her body was restless and uncomfortable. The bed was all wrong, cold and lumpy and lacking something. She got up, in the dark, and approached the window. She pulled the shutters open and pressed her head to the cool glass and stared at the grounds.

_Morgyn couldn’t sleep. Her mind buzzed and her body was restless and uncomfortable. The bed was all wrong, cold and lumpy and lacking something. She got up, in the dark, and approached the window. She pulled the shutters open and pressed her head to the cool glass and stared at the grounds._

Cackle’s Academy shimmered peacefully under the moonlight, and Morgyn found herself gauging the distance between her window and the perimeter wall. Perhaps, she thought, I could take a walk. But something told her night-time wandering wouldn’t be met with approval. She was trying not to disappoint Julie. Trying desperately.

Morgyn took the top sheet from her bed and wrapped it round herself and sat on the window ledge to read the volume Miss Bat had given her. Not for the first time in her young life, she was still awake when the sun rose the next day and it was because of this that she dressed quickly, splashed her face with cold water and leapt onto her skyboard through the open window.

It was a completely glorious morning. The air was crisp without bite, the light soft and golden and no breeze disturbed her. Morgyn soared up and around the turrets and dived slowly, her eyes half closed and her body fully balanced, ducking between the twists and curls of magic highlighted by the morning sun towards the treetops of the nearby wood. Morgyn knelt on her board then and let her right-hand trail along the topmost leaves, never losing her balance, feeling the energy of the earth and the trees. Standing up, pushing her weight onto her back foot, Morgyn's board soared up and up again and it's rider spread out her arms and let out a whoop of sheer joy.

Eventually, when her head was feeling much clearer, she turned the board back reluctantly towards the school and it began to dawn on her how visible she was. Did she dare use an invisibility spell? If no one had seen her already, it would surely be perfect. She let the wordless cloaking spell flow through her and knew that to anyone watching, she would have vanished entirely.

Morgyn flew gracefully through her bedroom window and leaped nimbly off the board in time to catch it soundlessly. The door of her room was standing ajar. Morgyn frowned and felt herself reappear with an unfamiliar, uncomfortable, quivering sensation and turned in a circle to look round her room. It was then that she realised she was not the only one capable of making herself invisible.

Hecate materialised, looking about as grim as it was possible to look at such an early hour, and advanced on her. She flexed an arm and snapped her fingers: Morgyn saw her skyboard vanish.

“I…” Morgyn began feebly.

“Am _late,_ Morgyn Hubble. Breakfast began _forty-five minutes ago_ ,” interrupted Miss Hardbroom, glaring down at Morgyn and pointing to the door. “Be warned, child, I will _not_ tolerate this becoming a habit.”

Unable to think of anything to say, Morgyn pulled a sorry face and ducked her head. She left the room and felt, rather than heard, her tutor dematerialise behind her and her bedroom door close of its own accord. She reached out her magical sense as far as she could, to try to detect whether the older witch was still nearby, but it was no good.

Morgyn could identify Mildred, when she wasn’t too distant, but she couldn’t distinguish other magical signatures yet from the rushing, overlapping magic which flooded the Academy and gave her a headache. She took a few wrong turns on her way down the stairs and only nipped into breakfast at the last moment to grab some toast.

“Cutting it a bit fine, aren’t you?” remarked Esmerelda conversationally as she caught sight of Morgyn. “Did you over-sleep?”

“Actually, I didn’t sleep,” said Morgyn ruefully. “And I’ve just had an encounter with Miss Hardbroom.”

“Already? But it’s only 8:55,” said Esme with a grin.

“It is? Oh, bats, I’m going to be late again,” said Morgyn, and she handed the last of her toast to Esme and ran the length of the castle to Miss Hardbroom’s office.

Morgyn arrived, panting, at 8:59 and knocked on the door. It swung open of its own accord and Morgyn stepped into the dark, spacious office.

“Good morning,” said Morgyn, feeling a fist of nervous tension settling in her chest.

Her tutor looked up with a raised eyebrow, as if questioning whether either of them really did believe it was a _‘good’_ morning.

“We do not run in the corridors, Morgyn Hubble,” she replied blandly, picking up a booklet of exam questions and a pen.

Then, Morgyn felt the pull and tug of the women’s magic lift them both from the office and place them down in another room altogether. Morgyn’s legs gave way, caught off guard again by the strength and brightness of her tutor’s magic, and she smacked to her knees with a yelp and bit her lip to stop tears of pain. She scrambled to her feet under Hecate’s disbelieving stare: she’d felt as unnerved before, when she’d been subject to those summoning spells days ago, but Morgyn had hoped that it wouldn’t still be so obvious to the older witch.

“Your test paper,” said Miss Hardbroom hesitantly, handing it to Morgyn and scrutinising the girl’s dischellved appearance as she did. “You have three hours, during which time you will speak to no one,” she continued, pointing to a chair.

Morgyn sat down, rubbing her sore knees, and glanced around the room. It looked like a lounge, with lots of big comfortable arm chairs and bookshelves filled with teaching manuals which oozed magic of various colours and varieties.

“I counsel you to concentrate,” said Miss Hardbroom sternly, noting Morgyn’s wandering attention.

Dragging her mind back to the task in hand, Morgyn looked at the front of the paper. It read "Witches’ Higher Certificate". Morgyn didn’t understand what that meant, but she filled in her name and the date dutifully and then glanced at Hecate warily.

“You may begin,” stated her tutor, consulting the pocket watch which hung around her neck on a chain.

Morgyn opened the book and willed her brain to concentrate. Once more, she felt rather than heard Hecate disappear from her side. She closed her eyes for a moment and concentrated on the feeling, trying to commit it to memory.

As Morgyn slaved away over her test paper that morning, the room filled up and emptied with members of staff between lessons. Morgyn noticed that there was always at least one person in the room, and she could be reasonable sure who's doing _that_ was.

At ten thirty, the bell for mid-morning break rang and the lounge filled with teachers quietly seeking a moment’s respite from the stampede of school girls. The divine smell of coffee filled the air and Morgyn suppressed a wishful sigh, which was just as well - as Miss Cackle appeared at her elbow only moments later and placed a glass and a carafe of cold water next to her.

“It gets awfully stuffy in here, dear,” said Miss Cackle with a kindly smile, by way of explanation.

Morgyn gazed up at her and smiled, trying to convey her thanks without words as she was fairly sure she had heard Hecate’s heels walk through the door a few minutes ago.

“Perhaps I’ll take a look over your paper later,” she added thoughtfully, wandering away to brew herself a cup of tea.

The only problem with the exam paper was that there didn’t seem enough time. The Soul Gatherer had taught his apprentice's how to read and write, and Morgyn had long since perfected those arts. It had suited the Gatherer’s purposes, and then it had suited Morgyn. She had then met thousands of witches and wizards over the years who had each taught her something new.

She hadn’t realised at first how sweet they must have thought her: asking if they’d mind looking at her notes on their conversation; pointing out her grammar and spelling mistakes; the funny little dreadlocked witch with a pencil stuck behind her ear and a cursive script the most pious monk would have been humbled by - and now she was expected to commit to paper a complete and accurate history of all their lives in such a short space of time? It made little sense, but she was determined to do them justice.

It was with some surprise that Morgyn heard the grandfather clock in the staff room chime noon. Hecate appeared instantly and with a flick of her hand Morgyn’s pen fell onto the desk. Morgyn massaged the stiffness out of her wrist and looked up warily, half fearful of what she might be asked to do next.

“You mother rang Miss Cackle this morning,” said her tutor, tight-lipped. “Repeatedly.”

“Is everything alright?” asked Morgyn, alarmed.

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” replied Hecate coolly, “she _insisted_ that it was you, and only you, with whom she wished to speak.”

Morgyn blinked worriedly but said nothing. She wasn’t at all sure what to do, or think. Julie knew better than Morgyn how things worked at Cackle’s, and yet she had been bothering Miss Cackle all morning on Morgyn’s account.

“Miss Cackle will see you in her office,” stated Hecate, raising a hand and transferring Morgyn to the corridor outside Miss Cackle’s office.

Morgyn, who had still been seated at the time of the transfer, fell to the floor uncomfortably and sighed. She picked herself up and knocked on the door.

“Ah, Morgyn, come in, do take a seat, how was your test?” said Miss Cackle brightly.

“I’m not sure,” said Morgyn honestly.

“I’m sure you’ve done your best,” replied Miss Cackle. “Did Miss Hardbroom send you? Yes, well, your mother seems very anxious to speak to you.”

“Do you think something’s happened?” asked Morgyn worriedly.

“Why don’t you give her a call?” said Miss Cackle, indicating the phone on her desk.

“I… I don’t know how,” confessed Morgyn.

“Why, no, of course, why would you?” asked Miss Cackle, her smile faltering for a moment. “I’ll find the number,” she said, and bustled about looking for her address book.

Morgyn held the receiver a little later and listened to it ringing. It was answered almost immediately by her mother.

“Julie?” said Morgyn tentatively, “it’s Morgyn, is everything alright?”

“Oh, love, yes, everything’s fine,” said Julie, sounding breathlessly thankful at the other end of the line.

“You wanted to speak to me?” said Morgyn, aware that Miss Cackle was hovering in the office, obviously waiting to hear that all was well in the Hubble household.

“I… oh, gods, this sounds ridiculous now, I just wanted to know you were all right. I couldn’t sleep last night, thinking about you and Mildred up at the school. I just wanted to check… how are you, Morgie?”

“I…I’m fine, Julie,” said Morgyn, with relief, “I’m tough, I promise, and I won’t let you down.”

“Did I scare you? I suppose you’re not used to having your interfering old mum ringing you up at all hours of the day and night, and I _know_ I’ve got a meeting with you and HB at the end of the week, but I just had to hear your voice,” babbled Julie.

Morgyn’s heart swelled in her chest.

“Julie, I feel this isn’t going to make the slightest bit of difference, but you know you don’t need to worry about me, don’t you? I’m a good deal safer now than I’ve ever been before,” said Morgyn, clutching the phone with both hands and wishing she could see Julie’s face.

“You’re right,” chuckled Julie, “it doesn’t make the slightest bit of difference. I’ve got to go to work now, love, but I’ll see you at the end of the week.”

“Alright,” said Morgyn, relieved.

“I love you,” said Julie.

“And I you,” said Morgyn quietly.

She put the receiver down and sat back in her seat, feeling exhausted.

“All well?” said Miss Cackle, smiling and returning to her desk.

“I think so,” said Morgyn, blearily rubbing her right eye with the palm of her hand.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” asked Miss Cackle, looking down at Morgyn with motherly concern.

Morgyn shook her head.

“It’s always a little stressful, the first night in a new school. You’ll sleep like a log tonight, dear, and if you don’t, pop back here and see me - I’m sure we can think of something that will help you settle. Run along to lunch now,” Miss Cackle added, and the lunchtime bell promptly rang.

~

_Morgyn sat with Mildred and her friends, and she was aware that the other students were watching her curiously. Nervously, she tucked her hair behind her ears and kept her head down._

Maud and Enid were delighted to see Mildred so happy, and the three of them chattered non-stop about the things in general. Morgyn didn’t understand half of what they said, but she didn’t draw attention to this. She toyed with her lunch listlessly and accidentally splattered herself with tomato soup when the Deputy Headmistress flashed into appearance next to her.

“Morgyn Hubble, you were _told_ to take five hundred lines to my desk by midday. _Why_ have you not done so?” demanded the tall witch.

“I ran out of time,” mumbled Morgyn, blushing.

Hecate seethed, nevertheless.

“And yet you had ample time for unsanctioned flying this morning. You will write your lines in detention this evening. It will be _quite_ the Hubble gathering,” she added, her eyes roving over Mildred, who was already attending detention for being caught eating sweets in Miss Bat’s Witchery Class.

“Until then, you can make yourself useful and be on hand to assist Mistress Bourgogne. Tomorrow, we will discuss the results of your witch history exam,” she added, before she transferred away.

“Bad luck,” said Enid, patting Morgyn’s arm.

“Why?” asked Morgyn.

“Mildred’s mum said the Great Wizard chose Miss Hardbroom specially to tutor you, and she’d never undertake anything that serious lightly,” said Maud.

“Especially since the time she had a hand in turning him into a balloon,” said Mildred, pointing her spoon in the air.

“HB looks even witchier than normal when she’s on a mission,” commented Enid.

“So… should I be worried?” asked Morgyn, trying to make sense of these comments.

“Very,” confirmed Enid, patting her arm again.

Morgyn spent the afternoon sifting through a box file in a backroom of the school library, categorising the documents she found into “useable”, “mendable”, “magicable” and “vanishable”. She was barely part of the way through later on when Mistress Bourgogne popped her head around the door and reminded her she had detention in five minutes.

Morgyn was weary and covered in dust. She walked out of the library and along the hallway to Miss Hardbroom’s classroom and was too tired to be glad that she wasn’t late. She took a place at the back near the door, away from the prying eyes of the other girls, and waited for HB to appear. The tall witch did so, only moments later, and swept around the room.

Mildred was there too – they had agreed that they wouldn’t try to sit next to each other during detention over lunch, knowing that HB would hit the roof – and Miss Hardbroom set her work from a Witchery textbook.

“Morgyn Hubble,” said Miss Hardbroom.

Morgyn looked up. Her tutor was pointing to a desk next to her own. Morgyn reddened but moved without comment, fidgeting with her pen. Miss Hardbroom handed her some blank paper.

“ _I will not use magic unsupervised,”_ reminded Miss Hardbroom pointedly.

Morgyn gave the briefest of nods, unable to meet her eye, and sat down to write.

_How, Morgyn wondered, am I meant to know when I’ve written enough?_

She didn’t dare stop writing long enough to count. She sneezed a few times, knowing the dusty library had caused it. After the first two pages, her hand started to hurt. Her eyes stung with dust and lack of sleep.

_I could magic myself clean in a second, thought Morgyn, maybe I should when her back’s turned. Or I could dissolve myself out into the fresh air. Even if she brought me back straight away, it’d still have been a break from this misery._

Morgyn wondered if she was going to lose her mind there and then, stuck in this joyless potions lab, surrounded by girls fretting and scribbling away under the watchful eye of her tutor and all the while she fought with herself not to jump up and run away, reckless to the consequences. This is what Julie wants, Morgyn repeated to herself over and over.

At last, detention was over and the other girls cleared away their spell-books and scurried away. Morgyn didn’t move. She didn’t know how many lines she’d written, didn’t know whether Hecate would make her stay and write more if she hadn’t finished. She was so caught up in the worry that she didn’t notice her tutor standing over her until the witch made Morgyn’s pen fall out of her hand again.

“Detention is over, Morgyn Hubble, you may go,” she said levelly, making Morgyn’s lines burn up in a flicker of magic.

Morgyn got up to leave, not meeting her tutor’s eye, trying to keep her emotions under control.

“And be sure to shower and take an early lights-out tonight, you look positively disreputable,” her tutor added, frowning at her dishevelled apprentice as Morgyn passed on her way to the door.

Morgyn willed herself to hold her tongue, clenching her teeth and balling her fists with the effort.

“A magical tutor,” she muttered to herself as she walked away from her first ever detention, “ _great._ ”

Morgyn all but slept-walked her way through dinner, and bolted upstairs and into her room gladly, closing the door and sitting with her back against it, breathing raggedly. There was a huge part of her that wanted to cry. But the rest of her, the part hardened by years of soul gathering, wouldn’t let her.

 _This isn’t suffering, she told herself,_ _The_ _Plague would be suffering_. _So why, protested a small voice in her head, do you still feel terrible?_

Dragging herself over to her window ledge, Morgyn curled up there to sleep again. Fitfully, and without a peaceful mind, she rested there. She awoke later, in so far as she had had an hour or two’s sleep, and felt doubly awful. She crept across the room to her bed and crawled under the starched sheets, shivering. Finally, she succumbed to slumber.

~

_In her dream, Morgyn walked through the Northern quadrant of the Forest._

It was dark, darker than she remembered, and the trees looked older than when she’d last seen them. It was too much growth for such a short time, and the thought nagged at her as she walked. She reached out and touched the trunks of a few of the trees she remembered planting. Their trunks were smooth and silver-grey, but something was happening to the colourful leaves that normally grew on them. There was no change in the weather here in the Forest – it was always the same, misty, dimly lit and damp, and yet there was a strange glow now, and the air seemed warmer.

Morgyn shivered hard. She looked down at her bare feet on the damp earth and saw that she wasn’t wearing so much as a stitch of clothing. The mist was sticking to her, making her feel clammy. She wandered on, wondering why she was here. _Was she missing the Forest? Was it missing her?_ It couldn’t be a memory, she reasoned, because these trees were far further on in their timelines than she remembered.

She was walking, she thought, due South. The trees were fatter here, their trunks closer together. Morgyn pushed on, wondering where she was heading. She climbed through the trunks, scraping her limbs on various branches and cursing inwardly at her own clumsiness.

_Had the Surface made her clumsy?_ She didn’t remember feeling like this before. On and on she climbed, until she was hot from the effort, but still clammy with mist. She heard a new sound and crouched on a branch to listen. It was far off and above her, so she began to climb the trunk, scraping her knees as she went. It was a long way up, and when she glanced down, Morgyn was scared by the distance to the ground.

At last, Morgyn could see the top of the tree. The branches were still thick and the leaves blotted out the sky. She pushed and struggled her way up, her hair snagging on twigs and leaves. With one last push, Morgyn broke through the canopy and stared around in horror: the sky - which had always been grey and misty before - was writhing with black, scaly, winged beasts; bigger than horses but smaller than elephants. The beasts were breathing long streams of fire, like lava. She could smell it now, a horrible cloying, charring smell – not of burnt wood, but of hair and bone. The Forest was on fire!

The nearest trees were alight, and Morgyn could hear the tree sap squealing and popping, like tiny screams, and she gazed in horror as the flames licked towards her alarmingly. She began to climb down, scraping herself on the topmost branches as she did and the air around her was thick with smoke. Panicking, Morgyn scrambled faster, but the flames were catching up. She felt the air currents sway her, the heat hurting her hands where she touched the trees and in a horrible instant, Morgyn lost her footing and fell from the high tree, her eyes filled with the horror of the treetops burning to blackness.

~

_Morgyn was screaming. Screaming and struggling and trying to un-see everything. Suddenly she felt a change in temperature._

It was enough to wake her: she opened her eyes and breathed once more as though she had been drowning, conscious immediately of the sweat that soaked her bare skin and the sheets below her. The bedroom light was on and Hecate, her long hair loose and windswept over her shoulders, was leaning over her, holding her wrists to prevent her from scratching herself, which Morgyn realised she had been doing violently, and gazing down at her with such a grim look of concern that Morgyn immediately knew she had been screaming aloud as well.

Choking on sobs and still barely able to breathe, Morgyn was pulled upright and leant forward to put her head between her knees where she clutched at her shins, curling herself into an upright ball, rocking slightly. She heard footsteps approach her bedside as she still breathed short, panicked breaths and heard Miss Cackle’s calm voice and felt a soft, warm hand on the back of her clammy neck.

“You’re safe, Morgyn, you’re back, no one will hurt you here,” Miss Cackle spoke softly, keeping a comforting pressure on the back of Morgyn’s neck while she spoke.

At length, Morgyn stopped rocking and began shivering uncontrollably, and slowly raised her head, blinking blearily in the light of the room.

“Lie her down, Hecate,” said Miss Cackle quietly.

Gently prising Morgyn’s hands away from her shins and guiding her back onto her pillow, Hecate did so. Morgyn wanted to curl up in a ball and rock again but her wrists were still clasped in her tutor’s firm hands. Hecate looked hard at Morgyn and the girl felt a sweep of magic run down through the older witch’s arms and into her and she shivered even more violently.

“A little checking spell, Morgyn,” said Miss Cackle soothingly, tucking Morgyn’s legs under the blankets.

Morgyn gazed up at her tutor through hazy eyes and could dimly feel the spell coursing through her - searching, examining, checking - and silently willed the clever witch to find and destroy whatever it was that had caused such a nightmare. At last, it seemed the older witch had learned everything she needed and Morgyn felt the spell rush back along her arms and into the older witch’s hands once more. The dark-haired witch lowered Morgyn’s hands to the bed as Miss Cackle tucked her in tightly.

Morgyn wasn’t sure when it had happened, but found herself in soft, fresh pyjamas and the sheets – which had been wet with perspiration – were dry and clean once more. Her hair and face no longer felt sticky or clammy.

“It hurts,” Morgyn heard herself mumbling into Hecate’s soft hair as the witch bent over her and examined her eyes.

_Because it_ _did_ : she might not be sweating anymore, but Morgyn still felt like fire was in her veins and vipers were writhing in her belly. Hecate paused for a millisecond, frowned, then sat down on the bed and leaned over, placing a cool palm across Morgyn’s eyes.

 _“Somnus meus parvulus,”_ the witch murmured, and at once Morgyn knew nothing more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Somnus meus parvulus" - Latin (trans. "Sleep my child/Sleep my little one.")


	18. A Sorceress's Apprentice (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgyn awoke slowly. Her body ached numbly, although she felt well rested. She also felt… hungry? She opened her eyes and sat up, and at once felt the pull and tug of magic as someone transferred her from her bed.

_Morgyn awoke slowly. Her body ached, though she felt well rested, and she also felt… hungry? She opened her eyes and sat up, and at once felt the pull and tug of magic as someone transferred her from her bed._

With a yelp, Morgyn felt herself land somewhere soft and saw that she was now seated in a comfortable, dove-grey armchair opposite Hecate Hardbroom, who was drinking tea from a clay cup and reading a newspaper, immaculately dressed.

“Morgyn Hubble,” remarked Hecate placidly, raising an eyebrow at her.

“I didn’t-” Morgyn began, panicked, trying to indicate that it wasn’t her magic which had brought her gate-crashing.

“I set an action-specific transference spell,” interrupted the other witch calmly, putting down her cup.

“The moment you sat up, it activated,” she added, waving a hand and summoning one of the thick woolly jumpers Julie had insisted Morgyn pack and a pair of woolly socks.

She leant forward and handed the garments to Morgyn.

“Oh,” mumbled Morgyn - briefly pressing the wool to her face and inhaling the achingly familiar scents of Julie’s perfume, the Hubble’s washing detergent and fresh Northern air - the relief that she wasn’t about to be banished, or given detention, evident in her voice and the relaxing of her shoulders.

“About last night…” she began, as she pulled the jumper over her head.

“Tea?” interrupted the other woman, lifting a hand and levitating a cup and saucer from a nearby sideboard.

“Uhh, yes, please,” said Morgyn, taken aback, as she wrapped her hands into the long sleeves of the jumper comfortingly and leaned down to pull on her socks clumsily.

The teapot on the table between them lifted of its own accord and poured steadily into the cup. A slice of lemon, held lightly between a pair of silver tongs, also floated over and into the cup. Morgyn didn’t ask how Hecate knew how she liked her tea: she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the real depths of this woman’s power just presently.

The cup and saucer floated delicately in front of Morgyn and her companion picked up her own cup and went back to reading her newspaper. Morgyn opened her mouth to speak a few times, but couldn’t think of anything to say. She held the cup in both hands, allowing its warmth to spread through her hands and sipped the tea cautiously.

“Oolong, home blend?” mused Morgyn admiringly, without really thinking.

She glanced at Hecate, who’s lips were curling into a faint smile of approval. Morgyn looked down at her woolly socks with a sheepish smile, and realised for the first time that she was in a different pair of pyjamas to the ones she’d fallen asleep in.

_What was going on, Morgyn wondered. Was this another dream? Since when had dreams hurt and felt **that** real. Or **this** real, come to think of it?_

Morgyn looked over at her companion again to see if there was any indication that the witch was a figment of her imagination. Then, she realised the date on the newspaper.

“It’s Saturday?” Morgyn blurted out, shaken.

Hecate, glancing at her over the paper for an instant, raised an eyebrow and inclined her head as if to say _“indeed”_.

“I slept _all_ night, _all_ day, and then all night _again_?” said Morgyn wonderingly.

Her companion repeated the previous motion with her head.

“You… you aren’t angry?” said Morgyn in confusion, to which Hecate glanced over at her again, pursing her lips as if to say _“silly girl.”_

“Did… did you put a spell on me _again_?” Morgyn guessed.

The older witch surveyed her again over the paper but did not answer.

“You did, didn’t you…? I can probably tell which,” stated Morgyn, rushing to put down her cup and hold her temples, closing her eyes.

“Don’t demand too much of yourself,” Hecate cautioned.

Morgyn frowned and struggled sluggishly with her magic.

“A Safety Slumber? But that’s for _babies!”_ cried Morgyn with all the outrage of a teenager, after a moment of quiet searching, opening her eyes and seeing a smirk of amusement playing on her tutor’s face.

“But why?” asked Morgyn, massaging her head a little. “ _Why_ did you put me under for so long?”

The smile slipped.

“You were attempting to do something altogether incomprehensible,” began Hecate after a pause. “I haven’t the faintest idea _where_ you might have learned such a thing, though it gave the impression of being a variant of astral-projection,” she added.

“You were above the school, approximately one hundred and fifty feet in the air, unconscious, undressed, and emitting some sort of beacon enchantment. You were, incidentally, also screaming so forcefully I considered that you might actually asphyxiate yourself and, whenever we got near to you, it felt as though your magic was trying to block anyone and everyone from bringing you back to safety. When examined, we discovered that whatever you were doing had left you in high fever and exceedingly weak. You were also attempting to scratch yourself wildly, and kick out at things that were not there, though whether that was as a result of your fever or not, I cannot say,” said Hecate, frowning.

Morgyn’s mouth fell open in astonishment.

“I wouldn’t have been acting reasonably had I _not_ confined you to bed to recover from such an excessive use of magic and, under the circumstances, I did not consider that either of us would have enjoyed a… _discussion_ about your views of being encircled by a spell, as you accurately identified, intended for poorly infants.”

Morgyn sat back in her chair and let these words wash over her.

“Have you acted in this way before?” questioned her guardian sternly.

Morgyn shook her head honestly, too stunned to speak for a moment.

“A fever? Are you sure? Wasn’t I… wasn’t I burned?” asked Morgyn hesitantly.

“I am perfectly sure you were not burned,” replied Hecate, looking at her curiously.

“And I didn’t have any broken bones?” said Morgyn, hurriedly pushing up her sleeves and holding up her arms in front of herself to inspect, watching her tutor out of the corner of her eye for any trace of a lying tell.

“Mercifully not, though you _had_ nearly drained your magic somehow,” replied Hecate, sitting forward and putting her cup on the table.

“Oh,” said Morgyn, rubbing her hands together experimentally.

“As far as I could ascertain, there was nothing else physically wrong with you,” Hecate added, narrowing her eyes and looking closely at Morgyn. “Why do you ask about burning, specifically?” her tutor asked, taking one of Morgyn’s hands in her own and examining it again, noting Morgyn’s sigh of relief at her response.

“It _was_ just a dream,” said Morgyn, sounding pleased, as Hecate’s fingertips turned her arm over and pressed it here and there experimentally.

“Then you won’t mind telling me exactly _what_ you were dreaming of?” replied the older witch promptly, fixing her gaze on Morgyn’s face once more.

Morgyn wriggled on her chair and looked uneasy.

“It- it doesn’t matter, because it _was_ only a dream,” Morgyn eventually replied.

“Morgyn Hubble,” replied Hecate, softly and silkily, drawing the girl towards herself a little by the hand still in her grip, with all the promise that she _could and would_ make Morgyn tell.

Morgyn caught sight of the dangerous expression on her tutor’s face and made a little squeak of unease.

“I- I was in the Forest of Souls,” Morgyn said in a rush, “and it was on fire again.”

Hecate released her apprentice’s arm and sat back in her seat, surveying Morgyn broodingly.

“Begin at the beginning,” she demanded, and so Morgyn did.

Hecate was looking pensively into space, processing what Morgyn had told her a little while later. Morgyn had talked herself into silence, and now sat twisting and untwisting her fingers together and looked around the room for the first time.

Apart from the dove-grey chairs and the table between them, there were a great many books and potions ingredients around the room, as well as potted house plants. The magic here was almost exclusively Hecate’s.

“Are we still at Cackle’s?” asked Morgyn at length.

“Yes,” replied her tutor, breaking herself out of her thoughts, “this is my private study. Students are not normally permitted in here,” she added, pouring Morgyn another cup of tea with a wave of her hand.

“I think I owe you an apology,” said Morgyn sincerely.

“For what?” asked Hecate, looking surprised.

“For everything,” replied Morgyn, “but especially for taking up your time,” she added.

“By which you mean…?”

“It was you, wasn’t it, who found me? And you must have had to fetch me back, in the dead of night? You’d be the only one who could. And since then, I’ve been taking up your time. I can tell,” shrugged Morgyn.

“You can tell?” repeated Hecate, with an amused shake of her head. “No, Morgyn Hubble, I do not think you can. Now, to business,” she mused, rising and summoning a dark green bottle and pewter spoon and, crossing the floor, uncorking the bottle meaningfully.

“Wh-what is that? You remember I’m wretchedly _immortal_ , right? I _can’t_ get sick,” stammered Morgyn, leaning back in her chair involuntarily.

“Then it won’t matter in the slightest that you _are_ taking this potion to avoid being grounded for the rest of _my_ mortality, will it?” replied Hecate sweetly, with an eyebrow arched.

Morgyn huffed for a moment, before warily leaning forwards and reluctantly accepting a dose of the murky potion. She spluttered at it’s disgusting bitterness, but dared not spit it out when Hecate’s hand swiftly caught her chin and held her head up so that she could give the girl the full weight of her stern gaze. Morgyn swallowed in defeat and felt a tingling warmth trickle through her as she did. It was a gentle, _glowing_ sensation and she was surprised as it spread down inside her chest to her stomach.

“I can’t taste individual ingredients,” Morgyn said, pulling a face and feeling crestfallen, even as the potion’s tingling warmth unfurled down to her toes and out to her fingertips.

“You are still recovering,” replied Hecate simply, as if that explained everything. “Now, you must eat,” she added, and turned back to her chair and clicked her fingers.

A bowl of hot porridge topped with blueberries floated in front of Morgyn suddenly. She took it and tucked in eagerly, her eyes roaming over the spines of the books on Hecate’s shelves. She noted the great many respected textbooks, statute books and academic journals which oozed formal magic, but stored away the thought that, somewhere else in this castle, Hecate must have another collection, the one where she kept the books she didn’t want anyone to know she read.

“Has anything happened while I was asleep?” enquired Morgyn inquisitively, when she had finished her porridge.

“Naturally,” replied Hecate dryly, from where she was replacing several volumes in their places on her bookshelves.

“I meant-” Morgyn began.

“I know precisely what you meant,” interrupted Hecate, rolling her eyes, and she returned to Morgyn, taking the empty bowl from her and vanishing it. “You’ll be relieved to hear that the last 35 hours have been unremarkable. Stand,” she added, motioning to Morgyn to do so.

Hecate held out her hands, palms up, when Morgyn had risen obediently.

“Your hands,” the tall witch commanded.

Morgyn laid her hands upon Hecate’s uncertainly. She felt the same rush of magic as she had felt the other night and looked up, seeing that the other witch’s eyes were closed in concentration, and took the unobserved moment to observe her tutor. For a few seconds, she saw past the frightening exterior of the austere, dark-haired witch who hadn’t batted an eyelid at Fate and whom Death had wanted to make a favourite of. She rebuked herself silently for not noticing it before: this quiet, steely figure who radiated _gold_ magic and held a whole school to account was a library waiting to be read _if only_ Morgyn could interpret her language.

Hecate’s eyes opened and she released Morgyn’s hands and looked down at her apprentice with the same dry, emotionless look she usually wore.

“You will return to bed now, _where you will remain_ until your mother arrives for our meeting,” she commanded, and her hand shot into an upwards movement and Morgyn felt the pull and tug again of the magic sending her away.

~

_Julie was alarmed; Miss Hardbroom was analytical; Miss Cackle was anxious; Mildred was apprehensive. Morgyn was just trying her best to stay awake._

The five of them were holding council together in Miss Cackle’s cosy office, clearly to the irritation of Miss Hardbroom – who had intended to use the opportunity to make both Morgyn and her mother squirm under her own magical inquisition.

Miss Cackle had explained the situation as best she could, and Julie now perched on the arm of Morgyn’s chair, clasping her embarrassed older daughter to her side while practically holding Mildred on her lap.

“Do you think coming here has triggered this, somehow?” asked Julie, clutching her girls more tightly.

“I think it’s more likely that this is my magic resettling to this world,” said Morgyn dubiously. “Nobody really believed it was going to be a _smooth transition_ , right?”

“We can safely say that we’ve never seen or heard of anything like what you were attempting in _this_ world,” said Miss Cackle, viewing the small, pale teenager over her spectacles.

“You’re sure there’s nothing you want to tell us, love?” said Julie, looking down at her daughter doubtfully.

“I wasn’t consciously doing it, if that’s what you mean,” replied Morgyn, nettled.

“Hecate’s set a watchful charm, if Morgyn’s heart rate rises above a certain level, or if her sleep seems to become increasingly distressed, the charm will wake her and she’ll wake Morgyn,” said Miss Cackle reassuringly.

“Really?” murmured Morgyn, looking up at Miss Hardbroom discreetly.

Miss Hardbroom pouted slightly, her eyes flickering guiltily to where Miss Cackle’s gaze was upon them both.

~

_Later, when Julie had gone home and Mildred had been sent to bed with the rest of the Second Years, Miss Hardbroom transferred to administer her apprentice with another dose of Pepper-Up Potion._

“You can tell me, you know,” said Morgyn, propped up in bed with Miss Bat’s chanting book, licking a trace of the potion off her lips with a shudder, as she looked up at her tutor expectedly.

“Hmm?” queried Hecate distractedly, recorking the green bottle and vanishing it effortlessly.

“What it is that’s making you so tense,” said Morgyn gently.

Her tutor’s eyes snapped up and looked at her then.

“Don’t pretend, please, not for my sake,” added Morgyn, as the tall witch summoned her a glass of water to sip.

“Since you are unlikely to rest until you have thoroughly exhausted _my_ patience and resolve,” sighed Hecate, slowly sinking down to sit bolt upright on the edge of Morgyn’s bed and folding her hands in her lap, “I may as well tell you. I am deeply concerned that there may be a part of you which remains trapped in the Underworld,” she stated bracingly.

“Oh,” said Morgyn, relieved. “If _that’s_ all, we can deal with it in the morning.”

“We can? And what did _you_ imagine I was tense about?” added Hecate with a snort, taking the glass of water and setting it on the nightstand.

“Sure, we can,” said Morgyn, shrugging, “and, it doesn’t matter, I must have been mistaken.”

“Morgyn Hubble?” queried Hecate, seeing through this blatant lie as she took the chanting book too and set it on the bedside cabinet.

“I’d rather not say,” said Morgyn, flushed, as her tutor got to her feet and motioned to Morgyn to sit forward so she could adjust her pillows.

“ _Morgyn Hubble_ ,” murmured Hecate dangerously, leaning over her apprentice.

“Do you promise not to shout at me?” said Morgyn, trying not to grin.

“I promise no such thing,” replied the older witch, raising an eyebrow.

“You were supposed to have told me about the enchantment, weren’t you?” said Morgyn, grinning cheekily, “I saw the look you gave Miss Cackle. More to the point, I saw the look _she_ gave _you._ ”

“What are you implying? And lie down, it’s time to rest,” replied Hecate blankly.

“Absolutely nothing. Goodnight,” said Morgyn, wriggling down and turning her back with a contented sigh so that the other woman wouldn’t see the smile on her face.

“You are quite as impossible as your sister,” stated her tutor, shaking her head in confusion and vanishing herself from the room.

“And you might be able to outfox Death and withstand Fate’s temptations,” muttered Morgyn to herself when she was sure Hecate was gone, “but if you’re not also _completely_ under Miss Cackle’s thumb, I’m a porcupine.”


	19. A Sorceress's Apprentice (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next morning, Morgyn felt much better. She ate almost all of the snacks Julie had left her ravenously, took a shower, dressed and went down to breakfast. Esme was immensely pleased to see her.

_The next morning, Morgyn felt much better: she ate almost all of the snacks Julie had left her ravenously, took a shower, dressed and went down to breakfast._

Esme was immensely pleased to see her.

“You’re better?” said Esme, her face breaking into a smile and pulling Morgyn into a hug. “Mildred told me what happened.”

“I’m great,” said Morgyn, grinning, “just very hungry.”

“Well, we have a selection of Cackle’s finest cuisine,” muttered Esme, linking into Morgyn’s arm and leading her over to a table. “There’s cemented porridge, charcoaled toast, and vats and vats of slightly-sour milk.”

“How deliciously appetising,” laughed Morgyn.

“So, what does HB think was wrong with you?” asked Esme, as they sat down together to have some toast.

“She’s worried that there might still be a part of me in the Underworld,” said Morgyn with a sigh.

“And she’s really letting you wander around unsupervised?” asked Esme incredulously.

“I guess so,” shrugged Morgyn.

“Does… HB actually _know_ you’re out of bed?” probed Esme accusingly.

“Well-” said Morgyn hesitantly.

“The word you are undoubtedly searching for is _‘no’_ , Morgyn Hubble,” said a voice behind them.

Morgyn’s shoulders gave an involuntary squirm and she turned guiltily.

“I _am_ much better today,” Morgyn entreated honestly.

“We shall see,” said Miss Hardbroom, giving her a cold look, “my office, after breakfast.”

~

 _Morgyn leaned against the cold stone wall outside HB’s office, fiddling with her favourite dreadlock_.

Her tutor materialised and unlocked the office door and strode in, heels clacking angrily on the floor. Morgyn followed her uncertainly.

“You know what you were saying about a part of me being in the Underworld?” Morgyn said, looking at her tutor warily. “There’s… something you need to know.”

“Is that so? Sit,” replied Hecate, waving a hand to the chair in front of her desk.

“I’ll understand if you tell Miss Cackle this,” said Morgyn, too anxious to sit down yet, “but I need you to swear that you won’t tell my mother or Mildred.”

“Morgyn Hubble, let us be clear from the start: I am not here to be your confidant,” murmured her tutor unfeelingly.

“I’m not asking you to be,” said Morgyn, beginning to lose her temper, “but I need you to swear this to help me keep them safe.”

“Do not presume that I will abet you in dishonesty to your family,” said Hecate, her voice low and stern.

“By all means,” snapped Morgyn, tears springing unbidden to her eyes, “get hold of the Grimoires and try to work it out on your own,” she continued, and she turned on the spot and intended to storm out of the door.

Except, unfortunately, the door had disappeared. Morgyn stuttered for a moment, realised what was happening, and then tried to dissolve herself angrily instead. The same uncomfortable, shivering sensation rooted her to this space. She tried again, before breathing out fiercely and clenching her fists.

“Stop it,” she muttered, not willing to turn around because she might lose her temper even more.

Breathing heavily, she sensed the resolve of the uncomfortable, shivering sensation from her boots to the tips of her dreadlocks, and then an idea struck her. Bending her knees and crouching on the floor, laying her left hand flat on the cold stone and pressing her right hand to her heart, Morgyn closed her eyes and _pulled_ on the tendrils of power she could feel in the stone.

Her mind jumped from slab to slab, soaking in the energy. Carefully, in her mind's eye, she traced a line around the room and found where the lingering memory of the doorway tingled. She concentrated hard, and in her mind drew again the lines of the door. Then, she opened her eyes.

The door had reappeared. Morgyn lurched to her feet and went to open the door. It opened, in so much as the door itself swung toward her, but behind it was a mirror reflecting Morgyn’s own irritated expression and the dark, precise order of the office behind her. In the reflection, Morgyn caught sight of the icy, expectant look on the face of the powerful witch who was waiting for her to come to order.

Morgyn exhaled irritably. She rested her head on the mirror, debating whether to smash it and risk hurting her hands on the undercurrent of whatever spells Hecate was using, and closed her eyes, eventually schooling herself to take deep, calming breaths. When she felt sufficiently calm, she straightened up, exhaled again more deliberately, and stepped back, allowing herself space to close the door.

“Very clever,” said Morgyn sarcastically, turning to look at her poker-faced tutor.

“I told you to sit _,”_ replied her tutor, her dark eyes brooking no refusal.

Morgyn crossed the floor and huddled sideways on her chair, her arms crossed defensively, her head down resentfully, her back to Hecate’s desk. There was silence - except for the ticking of a clock and the bubbling of some distilling potion on a sideboard. Morgyn’s breath was quick and cross and she frowned at a point on the floor, blinking furiously at the tears that kept threatening.

“ _If_ I have to wait all day for you to behave,” voiced Hecate forebodingly, “rest assured, I will find _all manner_ of ways and means to take back an entire day of your free time over the coming weeks. When I ask you reasonably to do something, Morgyn Hubble, I _will_ see you do it properly,” she hissed.

Morgyn, sensing that she was losing this battle, shimmied round in her chair so that she was facing the correct way.

“Arms unfolded, head up, sit up straight and take that ridiculous look off your face,” commanded Hecate unbendingly.

Morgyn let her head drop and roll a little before she complied with Hecate’s wishes.

“Now,” said Hecate, when she was satisfied. “Let us begin _again_. I voiced concerns that a part of you may still be ensnared in the Underworld, and you seemed remarkably cavalier about telling me it wasn’t a problem. Explain yourself.”

“There’s something… I promised to do,” said Morgyn, fidgeting with the frayed edge of her long, ripped shorts.

“It requires you to retain a link to the Underworld?”.

Morgyn nodded.

“I can’t… I can’t tell Mildred or Julie, because they might try to stop me, because they might not understand. But… it’s time magic, and so, it’s something that’s already happened… if it didn’t happen the way it’s meant to, everything would go wrong, do you see?” asked Morgyn, looking up and catching the bemused look on the other witch's face.

“I haven’t explained that well,” sighed Morgyn, placing her face in her hands, her elbows resting on her knees and she breathed slowly. “The Soul Gatherer," she said at last, "stole me to save me, when everyone thought it was Mildred Death wanted. But… he also told me how he knew about me in the first place,” said Morgyn, lifting her head up again.

“And that knowledge came from...?”

“A future version of myself. Who was watching over Mildred as a baby, with the Soul Gatherer. She was the one who could make the pact on the baby’s behalf,” said Morgyn, twisting her lips.

“Are you telling me…?” began Hecate incredulously.

“This has _and_ hasn’t happened yet,” said Morgyn, wincing. “Until I complete the circle, I suspect my magic won’t settle.”

Miss Hardbroom exhaled audibly and muttered _"tempus magia!"_ with a certain amount of distaste.

“How long have you known about this?” she asked accusingly, at length.

“A few years,” admitted Morgyn. “When he thought I was old enough to understand and prepare for it, the Gatherer warned me.”

“And what exactly does this… _process_ involve?”

“I’ll have to… go back when the time is right. Just once,” she said quickly, seeing Hecate’s dark eyes widen and her eyebrows shoot up in disbelief, “and then, _then_ I’ll be back on the Surface properly.”

“This is most… irregular,” remarked Hecate, struggling for once to express herself.

“If I don’t go back when I’m called, none of this ever happens and my sister dies in her cradle and I never join the magic world,” explained Morgyn fearfully. “I know we might not be your favourite family, but I can’t let that happen - not to Mildred, and not to Julie!”

“I see,” said Hecate quietly, interlacing her fingers on the desk.

“You’re… you’re not going to stop me, are you?” said Morgyn beseechingly, thinking of the door behind them.

“If it’s truly the case that you must do this to survive, then it would completely against the demands of our blood bond for me to hinder you,” replied Hecate, looking at Morgyn shrewdly. “Although, all things considered, I remain unconvinced that granting you leave go scampering into the other realms at the drop of a hat is much better,” she added meaningfully.

“But you _will_ let me, won’t you?” said Morgyn, leaning forward from her chair anxiously.

“It appears I will have no choice,” replied Hecate dryly. “Do you know _when_ this process will start?” she added.

Morgyn shook her head.

“Then, I think we had best put the topic aside for today and concentrate on other matters,” concluded Hecate.

Morgyn nodded her agreement, still twisting her hands together in her lap.

“How do you… feel this morning?” asked Hecate.

“Better,” said Morgyn earnestly, “truly.”

“Are you certain you don’t need more rest?” asked Hecate, rising and coming around the desk to take Morgyn’s wrists in her hands and examine her.

“I feel better than I did before, I think I must’ve caught up on some sleep,” confessed Morgyn.

Hecate closed her eyes for a moment while she concentrated. Morgyn watched her interestedly again and tried once more to familiarise herself with the sensation of her tutor’s magic rushing through her veins.

“Whatever happened to you that night,” said Hecate, opening her eyes again eventually, “it was a dangerously excessive use of magic,” she continued, looking down meaningfully at her apprentice, “the like of which I do not _ever_ want to find out you have voluntarily performed,” she added dangerously.

“You have my word,” replied Morgyn quickly.

“Very well,” said Hecate, letting her go, “you may go and assist in the library again, but you must come back to me _at once_ if you feel unwell again.”

“Umm...” hummed Morgyn, pausing by the door.

“Are you still here, Morgyn Hubble?” replied Hecate, staring pensively out of her window.

“I… no, sorry,” said Morgyn, opening the door and fleeing before her tutor could gauge her lack of honesty.


	20. Pippa Meddles (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgyn sat on her bed that night, in her small and sparse bedroom at Cackle's Academy, wondering whether she ought to have said what was on her mind that morning.
> 
> Hecate poured over the copies of the Grimoires. A knock came at her door. She looked up, momentarily annoyed to be interrupted so late at night and skated on the brink of ignoring whoever it was, before irritably waving the door open with a hand.

_Morgyn sat on her bed that night, in her small and sparse bedroom at Cackle's Academy, wondering whether she ought to have said what was on her mind that morning._

She had felt a queer urge to ask whether Hecate intended to accompany her, when the time was right, back into the Underworld. She wasn’t sure whether it would be easier or more difficult with the witch there, or whether she would have the choice or opportunity to take anyone with her - but she remembered the feeling she'd had when Hecate's voice had rung out in Death's chambers for the first time, and suddenly her eyes felt damp and her chest seemed constricted.

As she sat there, pondering the conundrum, Morgyn stretched out her senses to try to find Hecate in the castle. She could sense her nearby a little, something of the white-gold magic she was beginning to realise only belonged to one person, but she also got a sense of new magic, something near Hecate herself. Two things, really, now Morgyn concentrated her mind even harder. There was something _pink_ , which Morgyn didn’t recognise at all, and then there was something _black and misty_ , which Morgyn recognised only too well.

“The cheek of it!” said Morgyn, bounding to her feet, swiping away her few tears with her sleeve, and leaving her room with a defined stomp.

~

_Hecate poured over the copies of the Grimoires. A knock came at her door. She looked up, momentarily annoyed to be interrupted so late at night and skated on the brink of ignoring whoever it was, before irritably waving the door open with a hand._

Morgyn stood on one foot on the threshold, hair wildly tousled, still in a pair of light, ripped, denim shorts and a black and white striped top, her feet bare and her forehead furrowed.

“You have a Grimoire in here,” stated Morgyn, gazing accusingly at Hecate.

“How…?” exhaled Hecate, before she could stop herself, glancing down at the texts and then back up at Morgyn with a frown.

“I can practically smell it,” replid Morgyn, rolling her eyes. “May I?” she added.

Hecate knew, objectively, she could send Morgyn to her bed without another word. She could, theoretically, give the girl more lines or make her scrub the grand staircase and give her wayward apprentice at least week’s worth of early bedtimes and a detention for being up past lights-out. Theoretically, she could even threaten to call Julie Hubble. But none of these theories took account of the reality of Pippa.

Pippa Pentangle, who swept across the room and enthusiastically pulled Morgyn across the threshold into Hecate’s rooms, introducing herself and looking Morgyn up and down appraisingly. Pippa, who seated the girl in one of Hecate’s chairs at Hecate’s table and squeezed Morgyn’s shoulders welcomingly, and that same Pippa who was now giving Hecate her best _“behave yourself, Hiccup”_ smile and raised eyebrows.

Hecate glared disapprovingly, which only Pippa saw, as Morgyn was already pulling sheets of paper towards herself and holding her hands over them – trying to sense the distinctive pattern in the magic of the legend which pertained to her own story.

“Are there copies of the Grimoires in the Underworld?” asked Pippa, breathlessly eager.

Morgyn shook her head, still riffling through the papers.

“But you… _know_ them?” queried Pippa.

Morgyn looked at her then, and then for some reason warily at Hecate. She reached forward and pulled a particular section towards herself.

“Do you… notice anything about these pages?” said Morgyn tentatively, handing them to Hecate with a reserved look.

Hecate flicked through the papers, scanning the content, wondering what was so familiar about them.

“Morgyn Hubble, this is _your_ handwriting,” snapped Hecate, barely missing a beat.

“Ah, yes,” said Morgyn bashfully. “I just happened to be collecting the soul of an archivist in the 12th century, and the tome was _there_ … it was so empty,” said Morgyn beseechingly, with a helpless shrug as Hecate’s eyebrows flew up.

“These texts are _sacred_ , Morgyn Hubble. Is this information at least authentic and accurate?” queried Hecate, brandishing the papers as she came closer to lean down over her apprentice menacingly.

“That really is how interdimensional travel works, according to the Soul Gatherer,” explained Morgyn hurriedly, leaning back in her chair.

The tall witch’s hand shot out and plucked the girl towards her by the front of her t-shirt to stop her falling backwards, bringing them practically nose-to-nose.

“You had _better_ be telling the truth,” murmured Hecate.

“By Hades, it’s true!” squeaked Morgyn, realising when Hecate’s face deadpanned that this probably wasn’t the best thing to have said.

“ _Hecate_ ,” said Pippa’s voice groundingly and firmly, “I think it would be best, now she’s here, to put Morgyn to good use,” she continued pointedly.

Hecate’s eyes still bore into Morgyn, while Morgyn looked between the two witches with baited breath and clutched Hecate’s restraining hand to stop herself spilling backwards onto the floor.

“Very well, but she _ought_ to be in bed,” said Hecate at last, in a tone laced with an undercurrent of don’t-expect-sympathy-from-me-when-this-girl-is-out-of-sorts-tomorrow, drawing Morgyn upright and releasing her.

“Morgyn, Hecate’s told me about your final… task in the Underworld. We want to be able to prepare you, in any way we can,” said Pippa earnestly, coming towards the girl and kneading her shoulder.

“I don’t see how,” said Morgyn, “not that I’m not grateful,” she added immediately, her eyes wide and panicked.

“It’s alright, precious girl,” said Pippa softly, “I understand.”

Morgyn looked at Pippa with a wary smile, and the pink witch winked at her.

“I wonder,” said Pippa, sitting down next to Morgyn and patting the seat on the far side of herself for Hecate to come and join them, “if you wouldn’t mind telling us a little more about your time in the Underworld?”

“What would you like to know?” asked Morgyn, as Hecate sat down rigidly on Pippa’s other side.

“Everything,” said Pippa, leaning forward, her eyes shining.

~

_Morgyn rubbed her eyes mindlessly sometime later. She had talked about the Forrest and The Triad and the Gatherer. She had stumbled her way through what she could remember of where she had been and how long it had taken her to learn the ways of Soul Gathering, leaving out one or two of the worst memories she couldn’t bear to mention in front of two so accomplished witches._

Miss Pentangle was pacing slowly across the room, her hands resting in the small of her back and her brow furrowed while she thought silently to herself. Hecate was also on her feet, standing by the bookshelves with her arms folded, watching Pippa absorbedly. Morgyn tried and failed to hold in the huge yawn that had been threatening her for some time.

“Why don’t you go and get Morgyn tucked in, Hecate, and I’ll pack our books away?” said Pippa pleasantly, snapping out of her introspection at the sound and smiling at Morgyn indulgently, even as Hecate’s eyes rolled and her face took on an I- _told_ -you-this-would-happen expression.

Hecate raised an eyebrow at Pippa, then gazed disbelievingly down at Morgyn who was trying hard not to snicker sleepily.

“I’m not sure…” began Morgyn, biting her lip.

“About what?” said Pippa, her eyes flicking between the two dark-haired witches with interest.

“What I mean is, I don’t think I need anyone to tuck me in,” said Morgyn tactfully.

“You might not think you _need_ something,” laughed Pippa delightedly, “but that’s not to say you haven’t realised you might secretly be hoping for it,” said Pippa.

“Hmm-?” Morgyn hummed, glancing drowsily at her tutor for guidance.

Hecate’s eyes rolled and she sighed and uncrossed her arms.

“In such matters, Morgyn Hubble, I counsel you to concede gracefully to Miss Pentangle’s wishes rather than lose your decorum arguing with her about them,” said Hecate, bidding Morgyn to stand and taking her by the shoulders, steering her to the door.

Hecate manoeuvred her apprentice to her room, waved her fingers in a few complex spells to prepare the girl for bed and stood over her impatiently as she dazedly climbed onto her cot. Hecate raised a hand to vanish herself and turn out the light.

“ _Hecate_ ,” said a voice accusingly from the door, and both the dark-haired witches turned to see Miss Pentangle leaning on the doorframe, her arms folded.

Hecate gave her a questioning raised eyebrow and Pippa swished across the floor in reply and bent over Morgyn, tucking the girl in tightly and making her wriggle and laugh a bit when she tickled her as she did so. Then she smoothed a hand over Morgyn’s pale cheek, bringing her own face down close.

“Teeth brushed? Face washed? Hair brushed?” asked Pippa, cupping Morgyn’s cheek.

Morgyn nodded, beaming at her.

“Washing in the basket?”

Morgyn snickered and nodded again.

“Clothes folded, cat out of the room? I don’t think darling Hecate’s changed that particular routine since we were little girls,” Pippa said conspiratorially, rubbing her thumb across Morgyn’s cheek.

Morgyn bit her lip, grinning.

“ _Pippa_ ,” murmured Hecate, warningly, folding her arms.

“Can you keep a secret?” murmured Pippa, leaning down closer to Morgyn.

“What?” whispered Morgyn, enthralled.

“I _adore_ her for it,” said Pippa sincerely, glancing over her shoulder with a little smile at the way the other witch fidgeted in response.

“Sweet dreams, precious girl,” Pippa hummed, turning back to Morgyn briefly and kissing her forehead softly, before flicking her wrist and vanishing herself.

“Not another sound, Morgyn Hubble,” said Hecate pointedly, rolling her eyes again and clicking her fingers to turn the bedside light out and disappear.


	21. A Sorceress's Apprentice (Part 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgyn was crawling under the stacks the next day. She’d dropped one of Mistress Bourgogne’s fountain pens between the floorboards by mistake and, obedient to Hecate’s rules, was reluctant to use magic to recover it. She thought she must be nearly at the point where she had dropped the pen and she reached out her hand to pat around in the darkness experimentally. Suddenly, she found herself tugged and pulled away and she landed on the upper side of the floorboards with a soft thump.

_Morgyn was crawling under the stacks the next day. She’d dropped one of Mistress Bourgogne’s fountain pens between the floorboards by mistake and, obedient to Hecate’s rules, was reluctant to use magic to recover it. She thought she must be nearly at the point where she had dropped the pen and she reached out her hand to pat around in the darkness experimentally. Suddenly, she found herself tugged and pulled away and she landed on the upper side of the floorboards with a soft thump._

“I nearly had it!” groaned Morgyn, getting to her feet, shaking her head to dispel the lingering fog of the transportation, and encountering her tutor’s raised eyebrows.

“What, precisely, were you doing beneath the floorboards?” replied Hecate Hardbroom, holding a paper under one arm and a cup of tea in the other.

“Fetching something I’d dropped,” replied Morgyn, going back to the loose floorboards which had provided her with access before and lying down on her stomach to look into the darkness.

“Which accounts for your appearance, I suppose,” remarked her tutor with a sigh. “That’s quite _enough_ , you wretched girl,” she added sternly and Morgyn swiftly withdrew her head from the darkness.

Morgyn glanced at Hecate and saw that her tutor was now holding out Mistress Bourgogne’s pen pointedly.

“Thanks,” said Morgyn, getting to her feet and taking the pen.

She looked down at herself, noticing that she was indeed completely covered in dust.

“Can I…?” Morgyn asked hopefully, waving a hand at herself suggestively.

“Go upstairs and wash?” commented Hecate mildly. “Certainly.”

“Great!” said Morgyn, turning on the spot and dissolving herself.

No sooner had she landed in her own room than she felt Hecate’s magic tugging her back to the library.

“That’s going to get old _real_ quick,” sighed Morgyn as she tumbled out of the air and back to the ground at Hecate’s feet.

“You know perfectly well-”

“No magic unauthorised, no dissolving, no flying, no _joie de vivre_ ,” recited Morgyn resignedly, pushing herself up from the ground once again and brushing some of the dust away with her hands.

“And no insolence,” reminded Hecate calmly.

“Did you need me for something,” asked Morgyn, pinning one of her dreadlocks back up in her loose bun, “or was this just a social call.”

“Tread carefully,” warned Hecate.

Morgyn snorted and turned away before realising, too late, that Hecate had been speaking literally when her foot met empty air and she tumbled into the dark space below the floor with a yelp.

“When you’re quite finished destroying the furnishings,” called her tutor’s voice exasperatedly, somewhere above her, “perhaps you _might_ dedicate yourself to considering the possibility that this apprenticeship will start to pass much more smoothly if you take my words a little more seriously.”

“Ow,” murmured Morgyn faintly in reply from the darkness.

For the third time, she instantly felt herself pulled and tugged by Hecate’s magic and she found herself on the library floor again, clasping her bleeding shin with both hands. The floorboards sealed themselves with a firm snap and Hecate sat down on a nearby pew and lifted Morgyn’s left foot to her lap and summoned a few items to herself with ease.

Hecate cleaned the scrapes on her apprentice’s hands with something that made Morgyn’s eyes sting, before smoothing something cool over them which began to heal them rapidly. Morgyn admired the balm on her hands while her tutor treated her shin.

“Inchture’s Injury Ointment?” queried Morgyn, looking up interestedly at Hecate from the floor.

“Hmm,” confirmed the potion's mistress, as she carefully covered Morgyn’s cut shin with cool gloop.

“I gathered her,” said Morgyn offhandedly, pressing her fingertips to the places where her skin had been hurt.

“I don’t know whether I believe that,” replied her tutor absently, taking the opportunity to tie the laces of Morgyn’s high-top baseball sneakers tightly. “Your other foot,” she added, motioning to it.

Morgyn obediently raised her other foot and her tutor tied it’s laces just as tightly.

“She was quite odd, actually,” said Morgyn leaning back on her healed palms for support, “she had a swamp in her living room and lived in a zero-gravity spot. You wouldn’t _believe_ how messy things got.”

“You are making this up,” sighed Hecate, pausing, holding both of her apprentice’s ankles on her lap, and giving the girl a shrewd look.

“And _then_ there was that business with the pigeons and the llamas,” added Morgyn, smirking and picking at the ends of her frayed shorts, deliberately not meeting Hecate’s eye.

“Morgyn Hubble,” replied her companion levelly, “did you hit your head down there too?”

“Honestly,” said Morgyn, looking up and grinning sheepishly, “if you think _I’m_ untidy-”

“You are, _de facto,_ ” interjected Hecate smoothly, lifting Morgyn’s feet from her lap and pushing them back towards the floor, “now, go upstairs and wash before lunch, and Almighty Hades won’t help you if your room is as untidy as it was yesterday when I next see it.”

~

_It was later that week that Morgyn started to question seriously what it would mean to be a fulltime member of the Surface world._

Morgyn had received feedback on her history test _– “demonstrates ability to recall historical events, yet wholly unable to use sources analytically and unbiasedly”_ – from Miss Hardbroom and had been tested in two other areas. She had aced Years 1 – 3 Spell Science under Mr Rowan-Webb’s invigilation, but had failed miserably in Codex (Witch Law), except for any sections relating to inheritance, death or divorce, which she intriguingly knew by heart from years of Soul Gathering.

Miss Cackle had smiled in a mystified sort of way when discussing her results, while Hecate had hovered restlessly behind her chair. Morgyn suspected that Miss Cackle had expressly told her deputy to give her apprentice time to learn and adjust in each area, and she could almost see the physical effort it was taking her tutor to stop herself dragging Morgyn to the library by the scruff of her neck to memorise and recite the Code. Perhaps it was in complete recognition of this, that Miss Cackle decided it would be best if Morgyn came to _her_ for one-to-one lessons on witch law instead.

It wasn’t just in her studies that Morgyn was struggling to adjust to though. Hecate had a habit of popping up around the castle at irregular intervals, almost as if she was trying to catch Morgyn out. Morgyn wondered whether she’d only imagined that they two of them had sat and shared tea quietly together only days ago.

Just that morning, Hecate had conducted another inspection of her room and had sent her up there during morning break to tidy it _"immediately and without magic_ ". Morgyn felt decidedly _weary,_ and wondered whether the air was different here to the Forest of Souls, as Mildred helped her make her bed the ‘right way’.

By lunchtime the next day, Morgyn thought there must be something wrong with the heating at Cackle's. She was sweating a lot; though curiously no one else seemed affected; and she had… a dull feeling in her head and something sharp in her throat? That afternoon, she was herb gathering with Esme and she felt sluggish and hot and cold all at the same time. She wandered about the garden and kept seeing stars when she stood up too quickly.

“Esme, what I'm about to tell you, don’t tell a soul, do you promise?” said Morgyn, a little later when they were alone.

“Okay,” said Esme slowly, folding her arms and sitting down on the bench next to her.

“I think someone might be… bewitching me,” said Morgyn seriously.

“What? Really?” said Esme, looking concerned.

“Will you help me get rid of it, whatever it is?” asked Morgyn.

“Hadn’t you better tell HB?” said Esme sensibly. “She’s able to lift just about any curse, and she’ll find out anyway, she’s your m- _tutor_ ,” said Esme quickly.

“I’d really rather deal with it myself, we’re witches too,” said Morgyn, embarrassed.

“Okay, but _don’t_ say I warn you,” said Esme. “We’d best go to the library and look up your curse indicators.”

They left the rest of the fourth years and went into the relative warmth of the castle to the library.

“You use indicators to narrow down what type of curse it is, and then you work out how to treat it,” explained Esme. “But this could take a while, I mean, who knows when or what you got cursed by.”

“Thanks,” said Morgyn, knowing that Esme meant this in the kindest way.

“You don’t have any visible skin indicators,” said Esme a little later, peering at Morgyn. “I mean, you look kind of pale and a bit flushed, but you’re not going green and snakelike or anything. What about your eyes?” asked Esme, perching on a stepladder to search the shelves above her head.

“They look kind of… redder?” said Morgyn, looking in a pocket mirror.

“But they’re not going purple or flashing,” said Esme pointedly.

“Nope,” said Morgyn.

“Okay, so it’s none of _those,_ ” said Esme, pushing a stack of books aside magically. “Look in this one, it’s got a whole load of nasties,” she added, tossing a book to Morgyn.

“Ugh, I hope I haven’t got any of these,” said Morgyn after a while.

“Are you even sure it’s a curse and not a hex?” Esme asked.

“What on Earth is going on?” asked a familiar voice frostily.

Morgyn jumped as her tutor appeared from nowhere.

“Just reading,” said Morgyn, hurriedly closing the book and trying to hide it from the older witch's sight. Hecate summoned it to her hand.

“A Thousand and One Curses: To Oblivion and Back. Esmerelda Hallow, explain,” said Hecate coldly, turning her gaze to the blonde-haired girl.

Esme stammered and looked at Morgyn for help.

“We were-” Morgyn began, but stopped when Hecate’s index finger raised threateningly towards her - _demanding_ her silence.

“Homework,” said Esme suddenly.

“ _Really_?” breathed Hecate, taking a step towards Esme and raising an eyebrow expectantly.

“History of – erm,” Esmeralda began to say, and then winced at the dangerous expression on the Deputy Headmistress’s face, “actually, Miss Hardbroom, it’s because Morgyn’s got a mysterious curse,” she confessed, sucking in her cheeks and looking sorry to Morgyn.

Hecate’s eyes widened at Esme and she whirled round to look at Morgyn. Her dark eyes roved over the teen’s appearance for a few seconds and then she swept forward and rested a hand on the girl’s forehead, frowning to herself, before swiftly feeling Morgyn’s neck and jaw with her palms and fingertips and opening her apprentice’s surprised mouth to look at her throat carefully.

“Mysterious curse?” repeated the older witch softly, now faintly amused. “I think not,” she added, glancing at Esme with amusement as she took Morgyn’s wrist and squeezed her pulse point.

The Deputy Headmistress clicked open the watch that hung around her neck on a long chain and counted inwardly for fifteen seconds.

“Oh,” said Esme slowly, suddenly understanding, and she bit back a smile.

“If it’s not a curse, what is it?” said Morgyn impatiently, “and why does it feel bad?”

Hecate continued to count as if she hadn’t heard her.

“Esme?” said Morgyn pleadingly. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“I think,” said Esme, grinning a little but trying to hide it, “I think you’ve maybe just caught a cold, Morgyn.”

“What?” stuttered Morgyn, bewildered.

She looked up and saw the confirmation in Hecate’s eyes that Esme was telling the truth.

“But I _can’t_ get sick,” she pleaded desperately.

“Your symptoms beg to differ,” replied Hecate calmly, releasing Morgyn’s wrist.

“No, no, _you don’t understand_ ,” yelped Morgyn, jumping to her feet, suddenly distressed. “I can’t _be_ ill.”

“It’s just a cold, you’ll feel fine-” Esme started to say soothingly.

“ _It’s not a cold!_ ” said Morgyn, her voice rising, backing away.

“Morg, it’s okay-” Esme tried.

“ _It isn’t!_ ” cried Morgyn, high-pitched.

“Morgyn Hubble,” interjected Hecate commandingly, reaching out to pluck her scholar back in close, but it was too late: Morgyn had panicked herself enough to leap backwards and dissolve out of sight.

Miss Hardbroom growled quietly and turned to Esme, her eyes ferocious.

“Tidy this up and go to your room until supper, I don’t know what’s come over you, Esmerelda,” she snapped, “running off from lessons on a wild goose chase with Morgyn Hubble!”

Then, she curled a hand and transferred to Morgyn’s room: it was empty. Hecate paused, her hand outstretched to simply pull Morgyn back through the ether to her side, and then breathed a calming breath, relented, and instead sought out Ada’s magical signature and transferred.

~

“And you say she seemed genuinely shocked, Hecate?” said Miss Cackle a little later when the pair were seated in her office.

“Overly dramatic,” corrected Hecate dryly.

“If she _is_ feeling under the weather, we might make allowances,” replied Ada fairly, taking a sip of tea from a small china cup. “Perhaps you’d better call Julie Hubble,” she added thoughtfully.

“Why?” demanded Hecate.

“I’m not getting at you, dear,” reassured Ada, patting Hecate’s hand, “it’s just that this head cold sounds more important to Morgyn that the rest of us can fathom.”

“She’s behaving ridiculously,” said Hecate.

“Then why did you feel you needed to speak to me about it? You’ve tended to more poorly students than either of us would care to count,” asked Ada, looking over her spectacles at Hecate in a way that made the other woman fidget. “If you truly thought there was nothing more to it, Hecate, you’d have called her back to you and confined her to bed.”

“I-” Hecate began. “I suppose I never envisioned a day when I’d meet a girl more exasperating than Mildred,” she remarked dryly.

“That’s not all, though, is it? _Hecate_?” said Ada sternly, leaning towards her deputy and holding her gaze.

“If you’d seen her, Ada, she was practically hysterical, and over _a cold_ of all things,” said Hecate.

“It was alarming?” guessed Ada, and Hecate inclined her head briefly, “and you wanted me to confirm that it was alarming?” said Ada gently.

“Ada,” said Hecate, half-embarrassed, half-beseeching.

“It’s alright, Hecate,” said Ada, “you’re doing _exceptionally_ well,” she added as Hecate turned her head away in denial. “Your instincts told you it wasn’t a curse, you confirmed your theory, and Morgyn is going to have to face the truth sooner or later. You had already realised she wasn’t immortal, hadn’t you?” probed Ada sagely.

“I had my suspicions,” admitted Hecate.

“I do think we ought to call Julie Hubble,” repeated Ada gently.

“I hope you don’t think _I_ can’t handle one _stroppy,_ mortal witchling,” replied Hecate with a smirk.

“Of course not,” assured Ada, smiling gently, “but I suspect Morgyn might want someone to shout at, and I’d rather it wasn’t you.”

~

_A few minutes later, Julie Hubble was seated in front of Miss Cackle’s desk listening to Miss Cackle gently recount the events of the day._

“You don’t seem very surprised, if you don’t mind me saying,” said Miss Cackle when she’d finished.

“I had my doubts about the immortality thing,” said Julie with a grimace. “I may not be that up on magic and the Underworld, but I figured whatever the details of the pact were, they would be cancelled when her side of the deal was broken.”

“Remarkably perceptive,” said Miss Cackle genially.

“Added to that the fact that since she’s come back, she’s become more and more a human teenager and a riot of hormones and less and less an envoi of the Underworld every day. Whatever semi-stasis she might have been in, she’s certainly not in it anymore,” said Julie, rubbing her forehead with a hand.

“Hmm,” agreed Miss Hardbroom darkly.

“Teenagers are, on the whole, a mess,” continued Julie, “and for Morgyn, who had her _whole_ _childhood_ taken over by an adult world of work and death, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.”

“Quite,” said Hecate.

“I’m so glad you two are in agreement,” remarked Miss Cackle happily.

Julie and Hecate stared at each other in disbelief.

“Now, Hecate, you really must call the girl back and see if we can’t talk some sense into her.”

“With pleasure, Headmistress,” said Hecate, making a simple catching motion in the air and pulling Morgyn to the room with ease.

“No!” exclaimed Morgyn, landing on her front and narrowly avoiding crushing her nose on the flagstones.

She got up, coughing a little as she did and spun round to look at them all, wide-eyed and tearstained.

“Morgie,” said Julie standing up and reaching out a hand to her.

“Don’t,” said Morgyn, backing away uncertainly, breathing short, anxious breaths.

“Miss Cackle and Miss Hardbroom have explained, Morgyn, and you needn’t worry, a cold might be contagious but it’s not going to cause us any real trouble,” said Julie sympathetically.

“It’s not- it’s not-” said Morgyn, her eyes looking a little wild.

“Why don’t you come and sit with us and we’ll see if we can’t talk things through,” said Julie.

“I don’t-” said Morgyn, still backing away and shaking her head.

“Why not, love?” said Julie, so gently and so kindly.

“I can’t-” stammered Morgyn.

“Can’t understand what you’re feeling?” said Julie, still gently.

“I can’t _be_ unwell, Julie,” whispered Morgyn.

“Because you’re immortal?” said Julie.

Morgyn nodded, her eyes still wide and her breathing ragged.

“I see,” said Julie. “Well, if you don’t mind, I’d like to have a look over you myself, just to see that Miss Hardbroom and I are in agreement,” said Julie, “would that be alright?”

Morgyn paused, looking uncertainly and untrustingly at Julie for a moment, as her mother held up her empty hands in a sort of _“I’m an unarmed Mum”_ pose. Then Morgyn nodded slowly.

“Good girl,” said Julie gently, and she carefully crossed the room and carried out the same checks Hecate had less than an hour ago.

“Recently chilled through,” remarked Julie, “have you been sitting outside without a coat, trouble?” she chided gently, squeezing Morgyn’s frozen hands as she concluded her examination.

“I couldn’t breathe,” whispered Morgyn, looking at Julie out of terrified eyes. “I don’t know what’s real anymore.”

“Feel this,” said Julie, holding out her hand and showing Morgyn where she wanted her to press her fingertips along her wrist.

Morgyn obeyed and could feel Julie’s steady heartbeat.

“ _This_ is real. And _this_ ,” she added, taking Morgyn’s wrist.

“Come here, you, and listen carefully,” said Julie, holding her arms open to Morgyn.

Morgyn came forward slowly and let Julie cuddle her in close and press her frozen ear to her chest.

“Hear it?” whispered Julie after a few moments.

“Yes,” mumbled Morgyn, closing her eyes and focusing on the sound.

“So long as my heart’s beating, I’m here for you. That’s what’s real,” said Julie, kissing Morgyn’s cold hair. “Everything else? We’ll work out along the way, do you hear?”

“Yes,” Morgyn mumbled in a small voice. “I’m sorry,” she added, sighing deeply and pulling her head away from Julie’s chest and disentangling herself from Julie’s embrace.

“What for?” asked Julie with a smile, taking Morgyn’s face in both hands.

“I should have known I wouldn’t stay immortal,” the girl sighed, rubbing her eyes.

“That’s nothing to be sorry for, I love you just as much either way,” said Julie, kissing her forehead and releasing her. “But if anyone _does_ deserve an apology, I’m not sure it’s me, hmm? I think _someone_ might have had a bit of a tantrum earlier,” said Julie pointedly.

Morgyn blushed scarlet.

“I could have handled that differently,” she confessed, “sorry,” she added to Miss Hardbroom.

The woman inclined her head in acceptance.

“I expect you’ll be just as much of a menace as a mortal as you were when you were immortal,” said Miss Hardbroom placidly, raising her eyebrows at her apprentice.

Morgyn smiled a little at that.

“I guess I can do mortal,” said Morgyn to her mother.

“You’ll be great, it’s not so bad – we have a lot of parties,” said Julie with a soft smile.

“I just need to get rid of this cold first,” said Morgyn. “How _do_ I do that, by the way?” she said to Julie a little more brightly.

“It’ll go away all on its own,” said Julie with a smile.

“Really? When?” asked Morgyn, with interest.

“Ten to fourteen days,” shrugged Julie.

“Ten to- ten to fourteen _days_?” repeated Morgyn, aghast, “but that’s like two hundred and ten souls, _minimum_! _Julie,_ no _!_ I can’t be like this for that long,” cried Morgyn.

“You’re doing it again,” said Julie dryly.

“What?” demanded Morgyn.

“Tantruming,” said Julie, mussing Morgyn’s hair. “And you don’t do that other stuff anymore, remember?”

“Do you really mean you can’t fix it?” said Morgyn, ducking out of her mother’s reach.

“‘Fraid not,” shrugged Julie.

“Can _you_?” said Morgyn, turning to look at her tutor with a mixture of astonishment and curiosity.

“Morgyn,” said Julie, poking Morgyn in the ribs for her tone.

“Mildred says HB can fix anything,” said Morgyn, rubbing her ribs and frowning at her mother in confusion.

Julie snorted and Miss Cackle was suddenly trying very hard not to laugh.

“I think, perhaps, Mildred _meant_ that Miss Hardbroom can resolve just about any magical mishap you sister might have caused,” said Miss Cackle tactfully.

“But having a cold isn’t a mishap,” said Julie, when Morgyn looked at her for explanation.

“So, I’m stuck like this?” guessed Morgyn, her eyes wide, “but I can’t even do straight lines when I walk, it’s _unreal_ ,” she whined.

“Morgyn,” said Julie, “while being sick isn’t anyone’s fault, I won’t have you driving anyone to distraction with how unfair you think it is that you have _a cold_. You heard me,” said Julie, warningly.

“But this is the first time I’ve been ill,” said Morgyn, dramatically. “As in _ever_ , Julie.”

“Two things,” said Julie, “first, if you carry on being so dramatic, Morgyn, I suggest Miss Hardbroom find you a naughty step until we’re sure you’ve grown out of these tantrums, and secondly, no, it isn’t.”

“First, gonna to pretend that I know what that is so you can consider me properly warned. Secondly, it _isn’t_?” said Morgyn.

“Not even close,” said Julie, shaking her head and folding her arms.

“I don’t remember?” said Morgyn, fiddling with a dreadlock.

“You were very little, before our Mildred was born,” said Julie, swallowing hard, “you were born much too early - your lungs just weren’t ready. For two months, I was hardly allowed to hold you and you still caught a chest infection,” said Julie, taking a deep breath. “I thought I lost you then, Morgyn Hubble. Oh, you’ve survived so much worse than any cold. Now, _enough_ with the high drama and tantrums,” said Julie meaningfully, her voice low.

“I didn’t know,” said Morgyn quietly, bowing her head.

“Miss Cackle, I really have to be going,” said Julie, checking her watch. “Thank you for calling me, I appreciate it,” she added, smiling at the older witches.

“Morgyn, give your sister a hug from me, take care of yourself, and keep in mind what I said, hey?” said Julie sternly, holding her daughter’s chin in her palm and looking into her eyes.

Morgyn nodded. Julie kissed her and then turned back to Miss Cackle, who promptly made her disappear.

“Now, Morgyn,” said Miss Cackle with a smile, “it’s quite true that we don’t, as yet, have a cure for the common cold, but we do have several tried and tested ways to make the sufferer feel better,” she said conspiratorially.

“Why do I feel like you’re about to say something humorous at my expense?” asked Morgyn.

Miss Cackle laughed, while Miss Hardbroom rolled her eyes.

“Perhaps you’re right, we’ve had enough theatrics for one day,” said Miss Cackle, “off to bed and rest, we’ll send someone along with supper soon,” she added, as Morgyn turned and shuffled out of the room, her hands in her pockets.

“You were right, Hecate, it was much more than a cold,” said Ada, when the door had closed.

“I wonder whether I am not coming down with something, too,” said Hecate absently, staring at the door.

“Really?” said Ada, turning to look her deputy over, concerned, and reaching out a hand for Hecate’s wrist.

“Hmm, I’ve counted _several_ points on which I wholly agreed with Ms Hubble this evening,” drawled Hecate with a slight smirk, looking down at Ada - who promptly stopped taking Hecate’s pulse and rolled her eyes.

“You’d never get a moment’s peace if you put Morgyn on a naughty step, Hecate,” pointed out Ada, “knowing the Hubble girls, you’d return to find both stair and girl had vanished.”

“Do you really think so?” mused Hecate, smiling a little wickedly.

“Don’t you _dare_ , Hecate Hardbroom,” chuckled Ada, swatting her deputy away.

~

_Morgyn rested that evening and nibbled snacks with Esme in the confines of her room._

Even through her shivering, miserable cold and grumpy mood she could eventually see the funny side of the day’s events. Her throat ached - she kept telling Esme she didn’t even want to laugh because it hurt so much - and her head throbbed.

“I would go make you a Pepper-Up Potion, you know,” said Esme kindly, “but I can guarantee it won’t be nearly as good as HB’s.”

“You’ve had that too?” said Morgyn. “But it can’t _cure_ colds, surely?”

“Of course, I have,” said Esme, rolling her eyes, “HB always insists if someone’s poorly. I deduce she’s a secret marshmallow under her witchy exterior. No, it’ll just take away the sting and let you get some sleep,” said Esme. “Do you want me to fetch her to come and take a look at you?”

“Thanks, but I’m not sure that’s a good idea, we don’t exactly have the best apprentice-tutor rapport,” sniffled Morgyn miserably, rolling her eyes.

“Like _that_ matters to HB when you’re poorly,” said Esme earnestly, “she will want you well again, Morgyn.”

“So’s she can put me back in detention?” said Morgyn solemnly. “Esme, what _is_ a naughty step?” she asked suddenly and sincerely.

“A inhospitable place Esmerelda Hallow will find herself in solitary confinement if she doesn’t make herself scarce _immediately_ ,” said Hecate, appearing in the room.

Esme jumped up from Morgyn’s bed and hustled out of the door, calling out good night to Morgyn as she did.

“I am sorry about today,” said Morgyn, propping herself up on her elbows as Hecate approached.

“Hmm,” said Hecate, materialising a familiar green bottle and a spoon. She uncorked it and nursed Morgyn with a dose of the disgusting gloop.

“Have you eaten well?” quizzed Hecate, summoning another blanket and laying it across Morgyn’s bed as the girl blenched, spluttered and finally managed to swallow her medicine.

“A bit,” said Morgyn, trying not to gag, “I wasn’t hungry and it hurts to swallow,” she admitted.

“But you _are_ drinking plenty of fluids?” Hecate queried sternly, pressing a palm to Morgyn’s forehead.

“Yes,” said Morgyn meekly, pointing at the empty mugs of hot chocolate on her desk.

“I hope you’ve brushed your teeth _thoroughly_ ,” replied her tutor, looking down at her suspiciously as she swept a hand to send all the clutter to the kitchen.

Morgyn nodded timidly.

“It’s time you were asleep. And no night-time wandering, do I make myself clear?” commanded Hecate, summoning a carafe of cold water and a glass to the nightstand.

“Can Tomaso stay?” asked Morgyn feebly, tangling her fingers in the fur of her new and beloved familiar.

Hecate pursued her lips and raised an eyebrow.

“If you feel he must. But _you_ stay in bed, I will check in tomorrow morning,” she said, turning and extinguishing the light and disappearing herself with a single movement.

Morgyn sighed and tried her best to snuggle into the unhomely bed.


	22. January (Part 4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Even with Fate and the odds against her, and with them all under one roof, my money is still on Hecate,” said Miss Drill, grinning.

_In the staff room the next day, Gwen was pestering Algernon to join her on a crusade._

“I hope you’re going to back me up, Algie,” she added firmly.

“I’ll be right behind you,” he replied timorously.

Gwen sighed and crossed the room in a bustle.

“I know you seldom need or take advice,” Gwen said, putting a hand out to stop Hecate as the younger witch stood to leave the staff room, “but I implore you, Hecate, bring the Hubble girl’s skyboard back from vanishment.”

“You are correct, I do _not_ take advice,” said Hecate, stiffly.

“She’s an astonishing young thing, quite unlike Mildred in many ways. You can’t have failed to notice how bright she is. And despite everything she’s been through, she’s still working to be honest and true. She’s grown up working hard, harder than I think we know, and she’s listened to things we can’t even imagine, so give her a chance – a _last_ chance – to enjoy what’s left of her childhood. She’ll thank you for it, especially after this shock about her mortality and, my days, it will make your job easier,” said Miss Bat, looking at her younger colleague with such an appealing look that the usually unruffled potions teacher looked uncomfortable.

“I will consider it,” replied Miss Hardbroom falteringly.

“Do,” advised Miss Bat, patting her hand twice and walking away and out of the staffroom door, Algie following in her wake.

Hecate’s gaze followed them and saw that Ada was standing in the doorway, her hands in the pockets of her huge pink cardigan. Ada smiled and shot Hecate a questioning look.

“All well, Deputy?” she asked.

“Hmm,” replied Miss Hardbroom, “I fear our staff are going mad.”

“Anything on your mind,” asked Ada, crossing the room, still smiling.

“I really must see to the second years,” said Hecate, checking her pocket watch.

“And Morgyn,” said Ada, knowingly.

“Mildred and Ethel have been feuding, yet again,” replied Hecate, pointedly ignoring Ada's remark, but slightly ruffled once more as she swept off towards the door.

“Three Hallows, three Hubbles and only one Hardbroom,” remarked Ada to Dimitty, where the young P.E. mistress had been quietly marking homework jotters in an armchair throughout the interview.

Dimitty Drill snorted and shook her head.

“Even with Fate and the odds against her, and with them all under one roof, my money would still be on Hecate,” stated Miss Drill proudly, grinning.

~

The days dragged on and the previously immortal apprentice was proving to be an unwilling mortal patient.

Morgyn got out of bed on the third day, unable to suppress her boredom any longer, dressed herself and made her bed, planning to put in a speedy appearance at breakfast via a sneaky transfer. As if she’d known Morgyn was thinking of doing something silly, Hecate appeared at that moment and gazed down at where her apprentice was wrestling weakly with her shoes on the edge of her bed.

“Do we think we are feeling better this morning?” she drawled, pressing a palm to Morgyn’s still-clammy forehead.

“I don’t want to waste any more time,” babbled Morgyn, trying to tie her shoe-laces with hands still clumsy from the cold.

“Admirable though that sentiment is, I’m not sure you’re quite ready,” said Hecate levelly.

Morgyn’s shoulders sank and her face fell, suddenly feeling weak and tearful again.

“You may spend a little time reading quietly in the library this morning, however,” continued Hecate, uncorking the now-familiar green bottle and deftly slipping a spoonful of unpleasant gloop into her apprentice’s mouth before the girl could protest, “and, _if_ that does not exhaust you, you may take a short walk in the gardens with Esmerelda this afternoon,” Hecate added, vanishing the bottle and spoon.

“I can go to breakfast though… yes?” said Morgyn, swallowing the gloop with a shudder and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, brightening up again a little.

“Calmly and without magic, yes,” sighed her tutor, and she disappeared, leaving Morgyn to make her way downstairs the non-magical way.


	23. February (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The days crept on and Morgyn felt the cold loosening it’s grip on her. She was inundated with other girls and teachers giving her advice – everything from eating more fruit to performing a rain dance – to speed her recovery, but she didn’t mind their interference because she could tell by Hecate’s improving temper, and the decreasing frequency of her insistence on Pepper-Up Potion, that she must be getting better.

_The days crept on and Morgyn felt the cold loosening it’s grip on her._

She was inundated with other girls and teachers giving her advice – everything from eating more fruit to performing a rain dance – to speed her recovery, but she didn’t mind their interference because she could tell by Hecate’s improving temper, and the decreasing frequency of her insistence on Pepper-Up Potion, that she must be getting better.

By the eighth day, she was back in her routine, sitting test papers and conducting demonstrations in the First Year Spell Science class and rushing around in her free time with Esme again, with only a lingering chesty cough which she was very good at muffling. It was while she and Esme were walking along a corridor that day, arm in arm, that Hecate’s voice floated eerily across the airwaves in that _particular_ tone that brooks no refusal or argument.

“Morgyn Hubble, my office,” it said.

Morgyn looked at Esme.

“I don’t _remember_ forgetting anything,” she joked feebly.

“You’d better hurry up,” shrugged Esme sympathetically.

Morgyn nodded and then stepped backwards and dissolved herself into Miss Hardbroom’s office.

“It is customary, when asked to come to someone’s office,” remarked Hecate, without looking up, “to transfer _outside_ and _knock._ ”

“Misjudged the distance,” lied Morgyn. “I’ll wait outside-”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort. Sit,” commanded Hecate, pointing her into a chair.

Morgyn sat gingerly and looked around the office, counting the jars to relax herself.

“I have had a complaint about you,” Hecate said eventually, looking up from her desk.

Morgyn’s face stayed blank, and Hecate noted inwardly that she would make a _much_ better poker player than her younger sister.

“Really?” said Morgyn lightly.

“From Miss Hallow,” confirmed her tutor.

“Esme? But we were just together?” spluttered Morgyn, in confusion.

“Not Esmerelda, _Ethel_ ,” sighed the older witch pointedly.

“Oh,” said Morgyn in relief, before frowning and looking down for a moment.

“You know to which incident I am referring?” queried Hecate.

“No,” replied Morgyn, unruffled.

“I believe Esmerelda was present, although I cannot persuade her to tell me the truth about either you or her younger sister,” prompted Hecate.

“Sisters,” said Morgyn, smirking at some private memory.

“That is _precisely_ to what I am referring,” Hecate prompted again. “Would you care to repeat for me, Morgyn Hubble, what it was that you offered to do to Ethel for not getting along with _your_ sister?”

Morgyn licked her lips, trying to remember, and looked at her tutor with interest.

“Was this _recent_?” asked Morgyn, nonplussed.

“Very,” replied her tutor, patiently.

“Ah, okay, when Ethel asked me, _hypothetically_ , what I’d do to her if she turned Mildred into something less annoying for all eternity?” guessed Morgyn.

“I believe so,” replied Hecate, already feeling her grip on the conversation’s direction wavering.

“Well, I said that her chances of survival would be slim,” said Morgyn, pleased that she’d remembered.

“Indeed,” replied her tutor grimly, pursing her lips. “And what _else_ did you go on to say?”

“I don’t remember,” said Morgyn, pulling a face.

“Let me refresh your memory. Your exact words, and I quote: ‘Alternatively, how attached are you to your fingers?’”

“Oh, yes!” said Morgyn, smiling at the memory. “What about it?” she added, looking at Hecate's cool and displeased expression.

“Nothing about that conversation strikes you as intimidating, or hostile?” probed Hecate pointedly.

“Maybe,” said Morgyn, with a shrug, “but we were speaking _hypothetically_. And this _is_ the girl who turned Mildred into a frog and nearly got her killed on several occasions.”

“Which, in no way, excuses _your_ outburst,” replied her teacher dryly.

Morgyn gazed at her pensively.

“Okay,” said Morgyn, “answer this question _honestly,_ and I’ll write Ethel a beautifully worded apology,” she proposed.

“You will be doing _that_ regardless."

“Hypothetically,” continued Morgyn, leaning out of her chair and onto the desk with her elbows, “what do you think _you_ would do to someone if they changed Ada or Pippa into something _less_ Ada or Pippa for all eternity,” she asked, her face blank, her tone even.

Hecate blinked twice rapidly.

“Ha!” exclaimed Morgyn softly, leaning even closer and smirking. “You _have_ thought about this,” she remarked knowingly, “and you know _exactly_ what you’d do. Well, then, Mildred is _my_ sister, my blood, and I will always keep her safe - I don’t care who knows it.”

“That is _Miss Cackle_ and _Miss Pentangle_ to you, Morgyn Hubble,” Hecate reminded her sternly.

“To _me_ , maybe, but to _you_ , they’re definitely Ada and Pippa,” replied Morgyn.

“Infuriating child,” said Hecate, rolling her eyes.

“But, _also_ , kinda right?” said Morgyn cheekily, leaning back abruptly and getting to her feet. “Will that be all?”

“Someday, when you have more sense and I more patience, we will re-examine your definitions of right and wrong,” replied Hecate smoothly. “And, no, _sit_.”

Morgyn found her legs giving way at Hecate’s command, and she landed back on her seat with a bump. She tried not to wince as she waited.

“The results of your assessment,” said Hecate after a pause, drawing Morgyn’s script from a drawer and handing it over.

This was a moment Morgyn had been impatient for – the results of her first potions' assessment. She looked at the front page and blinked. In the top, right-hand corner in red ink was a figure she was sure _must_ be wrong.

“Are you… _sure_ this is mine?” said Morgyn, glancing up at her tutor.

It was Hecate’s turn to deadpan.

“Where the Hubble family are concerned, I am rarely sure of anything,” Hecate replied, without missing a beat. “But as this is the paper you completed in my presence, in this instance, I am _relatively_ sure it belongs to you.”

Morgyn grinned wolfishly and looked down at her paper again, rereading the figures _95%_.

“It seems a poor way to repay Esmerelda for her help preparing for this examination, threatening her younger sister,” remarked Hecate lightly, ruffling the papers on her desk unnecessarily. “But, then, if that is the _Hubble_ way,” she continued casually.

Morgyn snorted and glared at her a little.

“Personally, I think your mother would be interested to hear-”

“I’ll apologise,” interrupted Morgyn, with a sigh.

Hecate’s eyes flicked up to Morgyn’s face. Her lips betrayed nothing, but Morgyn could see amusement in those dark eyes.

“Fully, and without reservation?” she prompted.

“Yes,” agreed Morgyn wearily.

“Not a hint of insolence?”

“ _Yes_ ,” sighed Morgyn.

“When?” asked Hecate, sitting back in her chair.

“Today?” suggested Morgyn.

“More specifically?” prompted Hecate, a smile beginning to form on her lips.

“Uh… now?” hazarded Morgyn.

Hecate smirked and leaned forward on elbows.

“This afternoon, on stage, during assembly,” she murmured.

Morgyn felt her mouth opening to protest, felt her forehead crease into a frown, and drew breath to tell her tutor how unfair this was. She wriggled, huffing, and struggled to decide what to say first. Hecate waited, watching her apprentice wrestle with herself. Finally, Morgyn noticed that the dangerous smile still lingered on the other witch’s lips, and she sighed and forced her shoulders to relax.

“Fine,” agreed Morgyn reluctantly, slumping in her chair deflatedly.

“And, later,” said Hecate evenly, “I will call your mother-”

“ _Hecate, you can’t!_ ” cried Morgyn, throwing her hands in the air and causing herself cough bleakly by accident.

“To inform her of your most recent test results,” continued Hecate calmly.

“Oh,” wheezed Morgyn, trying to settle herself.

“Unless you’d _rather_ I called to say you were having another tantrum?” queried Hecate.

Morgyn blushed and shook her head, still coughing.

“That cough is not improving, is it?” probed Hecate, after a moment. “You were up half the night with it, and the night before.”

“How did you…?” wheezed Morgyn.

“My watchful charm is still in effect,” replied Hecate with a shrug.

“You don’t _need_ to keep checking up on me,” complained Morgyn exasperatedly.

“ _Evidently_ , that is not the case,” replied Hecate curtly, extracting a small bottle from a drawer and holding it out to Morgyn. “Three drops of this in a basin of hot water, create a canopy with a cloth over your head, and inhale the vapour for at least fifteen minutes at a time, as often as you feel particularly breathless.”

“Thank you,” murmured Morgyn, taking the bottle and holding it carefully in both hands.

“If it doesn’t start to improve in the next two days, I want you back in this office telling me that in person,” warned Hecate. “And, now,” she added, “you may go and prepare your apology for Miss Hallow.”

“Okay,” sighed Morgyn.

“Which you will bring to me for approval _before_ you present it at assembly,” added Hecate, going back to her work.

“It’s like you don’t trust me, Pet,” sniggered Morgyn.

Hecate pointed to the door – which opened, unbidden.


	24. February (Part 2)

_A week later, when Morgyn was truly feeling much better and had not coughed once in the night, she awoke to find a note on her bedside cabinet. It read:_

_“See me: 11 o’clock, Walled Garden.”_

Morgyn frowned, recognising the handwriting as Hecate’s, and wondered what it was about. She dressed and tied her hair up in a high dreadlock pony tail and went to breakfast.

“Maybe she wants you to do some gardening?” suggested Esme, as the two of them tucked into porridge together.

“Why not just say that?” asked Morgyn.

“You haven’t noticed?” said Esme, quirking an eyebrow.

“What?”

“That HB’s a theatrical _queen_ ,” replied Esme in a whisper.

“Oh, yes, of course. If there’s any high drama to be had, she’ll make sure it’s properly had,” replied Morgyn, _sotto voce_.

“I do love her for it,” said Esme, grinning.

“Me too,” replied Morgyn, “but if you ever tell her that, I’ll denounce you as an unrepentant liar.”

“By the Code,” said Esme, winking.

“By the Code,” responded Morgyn, biting her bottom lip and grinning.

Morgyn went to Spell Science with the Year Threes to observe a particular experiment with Mr Rowan-Webb, and then attended Witchery with Miss Bat and the Year Ones to talk about the history of the town of Camelot. By eleven a.m., she was in need of a break, but dissolved herself to the wall garden obediently to see what her tutor wanted. When she arrived, there was no one else there. She sat down on a bench, cross legged, and closed her eyes – relishing the sensation of the cold air on her face.

A slight cough informed her that she was no longer alone. She turned and saw her tutor watching her. Next to her, Morgyn’s skyboard floated unobtrusively. Morgyn bounded to her feet hopefully, not daring to say a word.

“Swear to me,” said Hecate warily, prodding a fingertip into the centre of Morgyn’s ribcage swiftly, “that you will _not_ repeat anything like the perilous stunts I have witnessed from you in the past.”

“I won’t,” said Morgyn, shaking her head, her eyes wide and earnest.

“And that you are truly and fully recovered?” Hecate queried hesitantly, her narrowed eyes examining her apprentice carefully.

“Truly _and_ fully,” said Morgyn, nodding vigorously.

“I was... pleased that you were able to express your remorse to Miss Hallow before the rest of the students. It is a difficult and noble thing - to admit when you were wrong, Morgyn Hubble. You may fly this… _thing_ ,” said Hecate, indicating the polished wooden skyboard, “within limits,” she added, giving Morgyn a meaningful glare.

Morgyn ran a hand over the smooth surface of the board and felt it hum with magic as it recognised her. She felt eagerness welling up in her, and she could barely hear what Hecate’s rules on this particular matter were to be.

“You may fly freely within the bounds of castle, but not over the perimeter wall, and no higher than the topmost spire. Do you understand?”

Morgyn nodded, gasping as her magic entangled with her creation joyously. The board swept around them in what seemed to be a joyful circle of recognition and greeting and Morgyn leaped aboard with ease. And with that, she was off, shooting into the sky with a shriek of delight, the freedom of flying returning her innate charm and lightness.

“I hope, for your sake, you have the sense not to exceed those limits,” added Hecate to herself, as Morgyn was already so far in the air that she wouldn’t hear.

With a curl of her hand, Miss Hardbroom vanished to the potions lab to teach Esmerelda Hallow and the rest of Form Four.

~

_It was, Hecate noted by the classroom clock, about eighteen and a half minutes before Morgyn decided to test the boundaries._

Hecate felt the tug of her boundary spell being activated, exhaled exasperatedly, and turned to see Morgyn falling backwards out of nowhere onto the floor of the classroom amid the gasps and giggles of the fourth years.

“I distinctly recall saying ‘no higher than the topmost spire’,” Hecate mused crossly to herself, tutting with her tongue.

“ _Quietly_ , girls,” she added sternly to the class, gazing down unperturbedly to where Morgyn was sprawled, uninjured, on her floor.

The girl gazed back at her, her windswept face full of surprise at the turn of events, and Hecate was puzzled to see that Morgyn blushed brightly and looked down at herself miserably, contrition apparent immediately. The wooden skyboard, which had fallen through the air with it’s rider, lay on the stone floor beside Hecate’s apprentice with a crack from it’s top to it’s centre.

“A week without flying privileges, I think. Sit _there_ until the lesson is over,” said Hecate, pointing to the lowest step of the raised dais and scooting her apprentice there with an easy gust of magic, “and you can leave that _thing_ where it is,” she added sternly, as Morgyn leaned forward to try and pick up her skyboard.

When the bell rang, twenty minutes later, and Hecate had had more _words_ with her apprentice about why she had set safe boundaries, she was surprised and somewhat heartened to see that the girl left with genuine tears in her eyes.


	25. February (Part 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgyn's mind and body are resettling with the idea of being on the Surface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning to the squeamish - mentions of menstrual cycles (because this is a fic about a teenage girl).

_Morgyn woke up early one morning in her in fourth week at Cackle’s to an aching feeling in her belly and a sticky, dampish feeling in her pyjama bottoms._

Alarmed, she threw her covers away and saw that she had unknowingly bled into the sheets during the night. She whimpered, pulled the blankets back over her head, and promptly burst into panic-stricken tears.

It didn’t take long for Hecate to come sweeping along the hallway to Morgyn’s room in her dressing gown to find out what was triggering her watchful charm this time.

“Morgyn Hubble?” fumed Hecate, “it’s _five o’clock in the morning_ , what on earth has gotten into you now?”

“It’s too much,” wailed Morgyn, still under the covers.

“I quite agree,” said Hecate, reaching over and pulling the blankets away from her apprentice’s head smartly, “but _what_ is too much, exactly?”

“ _It_ is,” sniffled Morgyn, “it’s never happened before and I didn’t know it would hurt and I don’t know what to do _and it’s_ _too much_ ,” she wailed, burying her face in her hands and crying.

“Wh…?” Hecate started to say, and then her sleep-addled brain awoke properly and she had the presence of mind to pull back the covers to confirm what her intuition was quietly screaming at her.

Hecate held in a sigh and schooled her tone.

“That’s _enough_ sobbing, Morgyn. Did you know about menstrual cycles before this?”

“I did,” mumbled Morgyn, sniffling and trying to get her sobs under control, “but I’ve never _had_ one before, when I was in the Underworld there were lots of things that were different…” she wailed. “I don’t _want_ this,” she added, burying her face in her knees and crying harder.

“Very few women _do_ , Morgyn Hubble, but we don’t get to pick and choose our humanity,” said Hecate, rolling her eyes, before relenting again. “Go and bathe,” she instructed calmly, “and you’ll find everything you need in the students’ washrooms.”

Morgyn had no choice but to get out of bed and pick up her towel and washbag. She allowed herself the luxury of dissolving to the washroom, thinking that she’d rather face Death, Fate and Destiny all at once than let anyone else see her in blood-soaked pyjama bottoms, and for once Hecate did not call her back and make her walk.

She stood under the shower for a long time, crying quietly and miserably. Finally, when the water was beginning to run cold, Morgyn reluctantly got out and found that Hecate had sent her a set of clothes via transfer. When Morgyn was dressed, she went back to her room, feeling out of sorts and anxious. She curled up on top of her bed, which was now fresh and neatly made and sparked of Hecate’s recent magic, and clutched her stomach.

There came a knock at her door and she sat up, wondering who is was, and bade them enter.

“Good morning,” Esme said brightly, coming over to sit on Morgyn’s bed. “HB said I should pop in and see you before breakfast, what’s up?”

“I’m pretty sure it isn’t,” said Morgyn, “a _good_ morning, that is.”

“Why?” asked Esme curiously, crossing her legs and placing her elbows on her knees to support her chin expectantly.

“Promise you won’t laugh if I tell you?” sniffed Morgyn unhappily.

~

_In spite of the changes she was going through, Morgyn was growing used to life at Cackle’s._

During the day, she shadowed Miss Hardbroom in the first to third year Potions classes. Every evening, she would have to demonstrate that she’d memorised how to successfully make each potion, and during classes she would have to demonstrate several potions and direct the younger girls on the best practise. In the periods where Miss Hardbroom was teaching senior students, Morgyn was relegated to the library to study and write essays on a range of topics. She didn’t mind this, though: she wondered if her tutor realised that she learned best on her own, far from the madding classroom.

Aside from this, she had private chanting lessons with Miss Bat and Advanced Spell Science with Mr Rowan-Webb. She was spared taking part in PE, and she wondered whether Hecate had any inclination as to how thankful Morgyn was about this. With the exceptions of archery and sword fighting - neither of which were permitted at Cackle's Academy - Morgyn's only interest in sport extended to "occasionally running for her life".

Instead, Morgyn spent a good deal of time gathering herbs, gardening and making accurate drawings and studies of the plants in the castle grounds. This was all part of her tuition. Esme told Morgyn that Miss Drill kept cornering Miss Hardbroom and begging to let her teach Morgyn to fly a broomstick, but Morgyn was curious and secretly pleased that Hecate refused this too. It worried her deeply that she might not be good at broomstick flying, and given Hecate’s strong principles and emphasis on tradition witchcraft, Morgyn was becoming increasingly concerned that this failing might be the straw that’d break the magic carpet’s back. Hecate’s only comment to Miss Drill on these occasions, apparently, was that Morgyn was _her_ apprentice, and _she_ would decide when and where Morgyn would learn to fly.

With Miss Cackle, Morgyn learned and memorised the Code and its applications, as well as a good deal of anecdotal magic. But it was Hecate who set the bulk of the curriculum for her, and it was that studious potioneer who examined her work, who compelled her to act more like a Surface witch, who hounded her into trying new things and who scolded her fiercely when she wasn’t paying enough attention.

But what a difference five weeks made, Morgyn thought. She was undeniably quicker on the up-take than most of her peers due to the nature of the work she’d done for the Soul Gatherer, and she got the feeling she was making more progress than most of her teachers had anticipated.

Hecate, of course, espoused and expected nothing short of perfection. Morgyn had lost track of how many times she’d stood before her tutor’s desk of an evening, reciting the ingredients and directions of potions – her fists balled in concentration – only to be interrupted by a point of a pale, slim, hand to the desk next to her own. Morgyn would sit for another half hour, cursing herself inwardly for forgetting something, before being called to recite again.

Often her tutor wouldn’t say anything at all during this time, and the young apprentice was forced to re-learn the entire spell without knowing which ingredient she’d forgotten first time around - more than once leading her to make a tired outburst of frustration that had her sent to bed early faster than she could say “tantrum”.


	26. February (Part 4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a magnetism in the first snow fall of the year, quite beyond the understanding of most adults, and its effect on children is extraordinary - whether they be witches or ordinaries.

_There is a magnetism in the first snow fall of the year, quite beyond the understanding of most adults, and its effect on children is extraordinary - whether they be witches or ordinaries._

One day, late in the afternoon, the first of that winter's snow began to fall, and halls of Cackle’s Academy were filled with squeals of youthful delight as the first flurries began to fall. Morgyn had been working hard in the stacks, where it was peaceful and there were no windows, and consequently hadn’t seen the snow falling. It was after dinner by the time she finally stopped working for the day and stood and stretched.

Collecting together all of her things, Morgyn wandered out of the library and did a duplicitous dissolve to her room to change and wash up, as she intending on going on a beseeching mission to the kitchens to wheedle some late dinner out of Mrs Tapioca. She stopped short when she caught sight of the white world outside.

With a shaky breath, Morgyn dissolved and relocated herself ankle deep in snow. It’s fierceness nearly burned her bare feet but she stood staring down at it in wonder, her hands clenched in fists by her sides. Slowly, she lifted a foot experimentally and saw how her footprint was now perfectly moulded in the snow. She let out a shriek and leapt in the air: it was magnificent and raw and overstimulating!

Morgyn danced around in the untouched snow, twirling her bare arms to catch the snowflakes in the darkness. The snow clung to her hair and she threw her head back and let a few flakes fall on her tongue, let out another delighted shriek before twirling round and round atop the untouched blanket of frozen pearl-white snow.

“ _Morgyn Hubble_ ,” fumed Hecate Hardbroom, appearing suddenly, “have you _lost_ your mind?”

Morgyn felt herself pulled and tugged into Hecate’s spell and then reappear in her own room.

“Do you have _any_ idea how difficult frostbite is to heal?” glowered her tutor, coming towards her. “And, while we’re on the subject, _what_ were you doing out at so late at night without your hat, cloak and shoes?”

“It’s snowing,” burbled Morgyn, happy tears filling her eyes.

“You haven’t listened to a word I’ve just said, have you?” replied Hecate shortly, rubbing a hand over her eyes.

“It’s snowing here and it’s everything,” burbled Morgyn, “everything I _never_ knew. Did you know, the only thing that can change the temperature in the Forest is hellfire? Isn’t that the saddest thing you ever heard? And now it’s snowing and it’s so much and so cold and somehow, I wasn’t expecting it,” Morgyn babbled, looking down at herself. “My footprints in the snow, my very first footprints in the snow!” she breathed, dancing around Hecate as she spoke - who crossed her arms, unimpressed.

“What is that feeling, when you think your lungs are going to burst right out of your chest? Am I dreaming? I’m not going to wake up back there, am I?” she said, pausing in her dance and suddenly looking wretched. “Tell me I’m here, tell me I’m not an undead,” she pleaded suddenly, beginning to panic.

Hecate’s eyes widened and softened a little at the sudden change in Morgyn’s tone, and she uncrossed her arms uncertainly.

“Hecate?” cried Morgyn, abruptly clinging to her tutor’s hands and bringing them up to her neck, where her heart beat was pounding in her jugular. “ _Am_ I here?” she said, tears falling down her cheeks. “I can’t be, can I?” she sobbed.

“Morgyn Hubble,” said Hecate, holding her neck with warm hands, “of course you are. Settle yourself, child, you’re perfectly safe.”

“I am?” asked Morgyn hopefully. “I need a sit down,” she said abruptly, and her legs crumpled beneath her.

Morgyn’s familiar streaked out from beneath the bed and into his mistress’s lap comfortingly, and Hecate watched in reserved preoccupation as Morgyn hugged him to her chest and rocked them both a little, staring off into space. Hecate crouched down and gingerly sat on the floor in front of Morgyn.

“Your hand,” she said quietly, and Morgyn held out an arm numbly.

Hecate took her apprentice’s trembling fingers and guided them to her own wrist’s steady pulse.

“Concentrate only on what’s here,” she coaxed.

Her apprentice sniffled and took a few shuddering breaths and then Hecate felt her fingertips squeeze a little more resolutely.

“Focus,” reassured Hecate, “and breathe.”

At last, Morgyn seemed to be coming back to herself: she blinked sleepily and loosened her grip on Hecate’s wrist.

“This isn’t the first time you’ve had a moment like this since returning to the Surface, is it?” prompted Hecate, summoning a warm towel and wrapping up Morgyn’s bare feet and ankles.

Morgyn shook her head and gently scratched Tomaso’s ears for comfort.

“Do you want to tell me anything?” probed Hecate quietly.

“I really _was_ excited,” explained Morgyn sadly, “and then... it got too much.”

“I can see that,” replied Hecate soothingly, reaching out a hand and pressing it to Morgyn’s clammy forehead carefully.

“I’m sorry,” said Morgyn sincerely, looking at Hecate with big, wet eyes.

“Morgyn Hubble, if I require an apology from my apprentice, you will be the first to know,” said Hecate levelly. “And, as it happens, presently, I don’t,” she added clarifyingly.

“It’s just, there are all these firsts,” said Morgyn, playing with Tomaso’s paw as she spoke, “and they should have been the longest time ago, but they weren’t.”

“Hmm,” said Hecate meditatively, giving Tomaso’s ears an absentminded scratch.

“And I’m grateful for them now, really grateful, but there’s this feeling in the way and I can’t get passed it.”

“Do you know what it is?” asked Hecate in a faraway voice.

“I think it’s… maybe what other people call grief?” said Morgyn falteringly. “Because, while I have my freedom now, I’m starting to realise what I was missing all that time. Does… does that seem true?”

“Does it feel true to you?” asked Hecate, her eyes meeting Morgyn’s.

Morgyn nodded and rubbed more tears away from her eyes.

“Then, I believe it,” said Hecate simply. “I also believe it’s time you ate supper and rang your mother,” she said uncompromisingly, “and don’t think I didn’t notice you weren’t at dinner,” she added accusingly, giving Morgyn a _look_.

In spite of herself, and Hecate’s flat out refusal to believe that she really had just lost track of time over dinner, Morgyn smiled timidly as her tutor shepherded her to the dining hall for a glass of milk and a round of toast.


	27. March (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgyn was standing on the roof. To be precise, she was standing on a battlement looking out at a distant forest. A noise alerted her to the presence of another witch appearing behind her.

_Morgyn was standing on the roof. To be precise, she was standing on a battlement looking out at a distant forest. A noise alerted her to the presence of another witch appearing behind her._

“It’s okay, I’m coming down anyway,” she said with a sigh, and turned to see Esme smiling at her.

“You’re not Hecate,” Morgyn said, grinning.

“Just as well, really,” replied Esme, smirking.

“She’s a busy witch,” shrugged Morgyn.

“Not too busy to come up here and make you into witchy soup for messing around on the battlements,” advised Esme, as Morgyn jumped down carefully to stand next to her.

“She wouldn’t,” said Morgyn, waving a hand dismissively.

They both paused for a second, silently holding their breath in mild apprehension.

“Do you want to help me make a hammock?” asked Morgyn, after a suitable pause.

“Yes!” replied Emse delightedly.

Morgyn led Esme to her new favourite spot – the nook between the turret roof and the battlements of the second highest spire. It was cold, but she told Esme she could bear it to be alone - if even for only a short while. She told Esme how she’d discovered this place when she had been examining the boundary magic Hecate had set.

Morgyn hadn’t been sure which was the taller of the two spires, as it was difficult to judge from the air, but her previous mistake had cost her dearly and now that she knew which was the higher spire, she was resolved to make a secret place for herself.

“I wonder if she knows it was an accident?” mused Esme, as she lay on her back and looked up at the sky with Morgyn.

Morgyn was silent. She was looking at what Esme could not see above them: Hecate’s magic out here was made of clean, strong, straight lines of magic, white-ish gold in colour, which spread from the tip of the topmost spire to the boundary wall, encompassing an impressive volume of air. Morgyn took out her sketchbook and leant back against the slope of the roof to see if she could capture what Hecate’s magic looked like.

“Hey,” said Esme accusingly, seeing the faraway look on Morgyn’s face, “what about this hammock, then?”

In the end, they settled for an invisible den. It was cosy, after Esme had summoned plenty of blankets and spare cushions from around the school, and Morgyn worked a tricky spell to divert the wind gently over the space.

There was a small part of Morgyn that questioned why she hadn’t told Mildred about this place. She couldn’t explain it, not to Esme, not even to herself: Mildred, in her own lovable way, unnerved her. She seemed to know instinctively whether Morgyn was feeling lonely or homesick for the Underworld and would pop up at her sister's elbow, smiling happily, and making Morgyn feel all gooey inside when she’d wrap her arms around her middle and squeeze her tight.

Only yesterday, while Morgyn had sat alone at breakfast, Mildred had snuck up to the teacher’s table – where Morgyn now had to sit because Hecate had caught her skipping dinner one day and lunch the next – and pressed a poesy of lavender and ribbon into her sister’s hand. Unspoken, the tenderness of her younger sister nearly broke Morgyn’s heart. The poesy now rested on Morgyn’s bedside cabinet in pride of place: the first thing she'd wake to, and last thing she'd see before she slipped into sleep.

Morgyn’s skyboard had taken a beating because of her recent fray with Hecate’s boundary spell. She considered it now, where it rested against the roof. She wasn’t sure it was going to stay airworthy for much longer, or how she was going to fix it - since there was certainly no wood like it available in this timeline. She sighed and pulled it towards herself, running her fingers over the jagged split in the wood.

“You’ve got that look on your face,” said Esme, rolling onto her side and poking Morgyn gently.

“What look?” demanded Morgyn.

“That one that makes me worry that you’re going to do something silly,” replied Esme, with a sigh.

Morgyn snorted and ran her hands over the board again, sighed as they heard the bell for dinner ringing.

“I’m going to leave this up here, I think,” she said, propping the board up in their secret tent.

“I have to go and see the first years wash their hands before eating,” sighed Esme, sitting up and smoothing her hair. “See you at dinner.”

Morgyn elected to climb over the battlements and down the drainpipe to her own room. Mildred was waiting by her bedroom door, grinning.

“I thought you might be out exploring,” she said.

“Hmm,” said Morgyn, tucking her sister under her arm and walking with her to the dining hall.

“Are you out of trouble yet? Can you sit with us at dinner?” Mildred queried.

“I don’t think so,” said Morgyn with a sigh, spotting Hecate with her back to them, scanning the collecting pupils carefully for any troublemakers.

“But you are going to stay after all, aren’t you, Morgyn?” asked Mildred quietly.

“You know, I think am,” said Morgyn, squeezing Mildred’s shoulders. “Are you?”

“Oh, yes,” replied Mildred, hugging Morgyn’s waist.


	28. March (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgyn was sitting alone in her hidden den one evening when she saw a pink figure flying gracefully away from Cackle’s. She sat up, recognising the stream of lovely magic in the sky behind Pippa Pentangle immediately.

_Morgyn was sitting alone in her hidden den one evening when she saw a pink figure flying gracefully away from Cackle’s. She sat up, recognising the stream of lovely magic in the sky behind Pippa Pentangle immediately._

Morgyn dissolved to the hallway by the front entrance, where she had correctly guessed Hecate would be.

“Was Miss Pentangle well?” she asked anxiously.

Hecate jumped slightly and looked accusingly down at her.

“Did you just...?” she asked suspiciously.

“I was just passing,” said Morgyn carelessly.

“Hmm,” said Hecate disbelievingly, turning on her heel and setting off for the staff room.

“I was thinking about The Grimoires,” said Morgyn, bouncing along behind her.

“Then don’t,” advised Hecate.

“And I was thinking, they’re not the _only_ source of information we can access,” continued Morgyn, ignoring the comment.

Hecate paused, looked incredulously down at her apprentice, and then continued on her way to the staff room, shaking her head.

“There are other ways to find the answers we need, you know I’ve _still_ got connections with-” Morgyn beseeched, flapping at her side.

“Absolutely not,” responded Hecate firmly, frowning as she strode along the corridor.

“But it would-”

“No,” repeated Hecate resolutely.

“But-”

“Do you wish to spend the remainder of the weekend confined to your room?” asked Hecate suddenly, slamming to a standstill and rounding on her apprentice.

“No, thank you,” said Morgyn meekly, backing against the stone wall in the face of Hecate’s temper, seeing that she had fought the battle and lost.

Her tutor swept off along the corridor and into the staffroom without another word and Morgyn watched her go, tensing and flexing her fingers agitatedly as she did.

“I need Esme,” Morgyn thought to herself, and she set off to mirror her friend at her grandmother’s house.

~

Morgyn frowned into her porridge on Monday morning. Esme appeared on the bench next to her and punched her arm softly.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“I got on Hecate’s bad side again, I think. But Rowan-Webb thinks I should ask her to help me fix my skyboard,” said Morgyn.

“Ah,” said Esme, comprehending. “But she doesn’t exactly… _approve_.”

“If she could beat me about the head with it, I suspect she would, but other than that, she’d rather it didn’t exist,” clarified Morgyn, rolling her eyes.

“Well,” said Esme, “I suppose you could try and get in her good books?”

“I _am_ trying,” said Morgyn.

“ _Very_ trying,” replied Esme, in her best Miss Hardbroom impression.

Morgyn nudged her and snorted.

“Can’t _you_ ask her?” said Morgyn pleadingly.

“I’m not exactly flavour of the month,” pointed out Esme.

“A little incident with a founding stone,” said Morgyn in her best Miss Cackle impression.

“This is my last term here,” said Esme, “I’d like to leave in one piece.”

“Well, what would you suggest, then?”

“Hmm, well, we know tantrums are out,” Esme smirked, earning herself another nudge from Morgyn, “as are midnight feasts, answering back, being absent without leave…”

“Breaking the laboratory safety rules, being late, feeding your familiar your disgusting dinner…” put in Morgyn.

“Not brushing your teeth, wearing a hat askew, flying indoors,” continued Esme, counting off the ways on her fingers.

“Disrespecting Miss Cackle,” they both said at once, and laughed.

“Okay, so that’s what _not_ to do,” said Morgyn, grinning. “But is doing the opposite of all those things anywhere near enough to make her pleased?”

“To be honest, I’m not sure,” said Esme. “HB’ll probably just think you’re up to something.”

“Which will be true,” pointed out Morgyn.

“Maybe you should just ask her?” said Esme. “If there’s something she wants you to do, or a deal she’ll make with you, I’m pretty sure she’s the only one who can tell you what it’ll be.”

“Do you know any good courage spells?” asked Morgyn ruefully.

~

_Morgyn barely had time to settle into her daily tasks before a paper aeroplane bearing Miss Cackle’s signature summoned her to the Headmistress’s office. Anxiously, Morgyn scurried along the hallways to find out what she was in trouble for this time._

Mildred sat dolefully in one of the chairs in front of Miss Cackle’s desk, wringing her red school sash between her hands under the watchful eyes of Miss Hardbroom and the pensive gaze of Miss Cackle, when Morgyn knocked nervously at the door, and Miss Cackle opened it, revealing the older Hubble’s politely puzzled features.

“Ah, Morgyn, come in, dear, I thought this might be a good moment for you two to talk,” said Miss Cackle firmly, as Mildred squirmed in her chair.

“ _Elskling_?” said Morgyn gently, coming to sit awkwardly on a chair next to Mildred and stretching out a hand uncertainly to brush her fingers down one of Mildred’s plaits. “What is it?” she murmured, her nerves vanishing, her voice full of concern.

“I’ve made a big mistake,” said Mildred, her cheeks flushing, tears falling.

“Oh,” said Morgyn compassionately. “Do you want to talk about it?” she added softly.

Mildred shook her and wrung her sash tightly again.

“Mildred,” said Miss Cackle warningly.

The girl looked at her piteously and then looked over at Morgyn.

“It was something you’d _never_ have done,” said Mildred.

“Only because you got there first,” said Morgyn with a small smile. “You’re not the only Hubble who’s made mistakes,” she added, taking her sister’s hand in her own and squeezing it.

“That’s only because you didn’t grow up on the Surface and you don’t know how ordinary things work yet,” Mildred defended fiercely.

Morgyn bit her lip and shook her head. She looked at her sister thoughtfully for a few seconds before she spoke again.

“Did I,” Morgyn began hesitantly, “did I ever tell you about the time I gathered the wrong soul?”

Mildred looked at her curiously and shook her head. Morgyn rubbed her hands over her eyes and pulled a face.

“Do you want the context?” asked Morgyn resignedly.

“Yes,” said Mildred and Miss Hardbroom immediately.

Mildred was frowning curiously, Hecate was just plain frowning.

“Alright, in context, do you remember Queen Maud the Sixth?” asked Morgyn, looking uneasily between them.

“I thought the Mauds only went up to four?” said Mildred, looking to Miss Cackle and Miss Hardbroom for confirmation.

“Exactly,” said Morgyn warily, “that was mostly _my_ mistake. The Soul Gatherer tasked me with collecting the soul of Maud the Fifth, but I got my dates muddled and collected her daughter,” continued Morgyn, placing her face in her hands _._

 _“_ Which would have been bad enough,” she added, “but Two and Three had fallen out with Fate and Destiny that week, and they thought it would be _entertaining_ to place the future of witch-kind in the hands of one family, as a way of getting back at them through me.”

“One _royal_ family?” asked Mildred, dumbfounded.

“Yes,” said Morgyn grimly, “The Mauds.”

“Whatever did you do?” asked Miss Cackle, unable to stop herself.

“To begin with, I didn’t realise,” admitted Morgyn. “We were always so busy, I was hardly in the Forest. But maybe a week later, I noticed that my trees were vanishing.”

“The souls you’d already gathered from other times?” asked Mildred.

“Exactly,” said Morgyn. “I was frantic,” she added, “my mistake could have been anywhere, at any time and in any number of ways.”

“What did you do?” asked Mildred again.

“I tried to fix it,” sighed Morgyn, “I was terrified that if I confessed, witch-kind would be made to suffer. As it happens, they were already suffering.”

“How?” asked Mildred, frowning.

“Maud the Fifth blamed another coven for her daughter’s mysterious death,” said Morgyn, “and it sparked a war in Albion. My souls were vanishing because their ancestors were dying out.”

“You… caused a war?” said Mildred feebly.

“Yes,” admitted Morgyn. “But, actually, my mistake doesn’t end there,” she added.

“I do not recall a war of the Mauds,” interposed Hecate pointedly, rubbing her fingers together at her sides apprehensively, as if thoroughly undecided whether to start reproaching Morgyn for telling tall tales.

“I had to resolve the timeline,” explained Morgyn. “So, I ran to One, Two and Three and begged.”

“And they helped?” asked Mildred timidly.

“In a manner of speaking,” said Morgyn, rubbing her hands across her eyes again. “What you have to remember about The Triad though, is that they _are_ murderers. That’s what they’re good at, what they were chosen for. They’ve hardly a scrap of humanity left between them, which was another thing I failed to realise. Another branch of the same mistake.”

“What did they do?” asked Mildred, on the edge of her chair.

“First, they tried to co-opt the Sea Gods into throwing Maud the Fifth to Davey Jones’ locker - on the journey from France to Albion in midwinter,” sighed Morgyn. “And when _that_ didn’t work, they borrowed a Hellfire Hound and set it on her army.”

“Did that… help?” asked Miss Cackle, thoroughly interested.

“Oh, Hades, no,” said Morgyn with a shudder. “It made it worse. Maud the Fifth thought it was Maud the Fourth who was trying to terrify her into obeying the new Witches’ Code,” said Morgyn, drawing her knees up onto her chair and wrapping her arms around them. “So, Maud the Fifth set about vilifying Maud the Fourth and her Code.”

“You mean…” Hecate began, and then her jaw clamped.

“The Code nearly didn’t exist,” said Morgyn grimly, “because of my mistakes.”

“But… surely, you found a way to fix it?” pointed out Mildred timidly.

“If you can call it that,” said Morgyn darkly.

“What did you do, Morgyn?” asked Miss Cackle, intrigued.

“I threw myself on Death’s mercy and begged Him to save witch-kind,” said Morgyn. “Thankfully, He felt he owed me a favour after all the work He’d created for me in the Plague of 506.”

“What did he do?” whispered Mildred.

“He told me there was only one way to fix it, one way to save witch-kind and rebalance the Forest,” said Morgyn, chewing her lip and shuddering.

“Morgyn?” said Miss Cackle gently.

“I had to go back, before Maud the Fifth, and explain to Maud the Fourth, _in person_ , why it was that instead of giving birth to her first and only daughter, she needed to die,” said Morgyn, her voice hollow, letting her knees down and getting to her feet restlessly.

“You… you had to kill her?” whispered Mildred, horrified.

“No,” said Morgyn quietly, drifting over to the fireplace. “I had to convince her that it was witch-kind’s only hope if she died and stopped Maud the Fifth from ever existing,” she continued, her voice trembling.

“I sat with her, in a tent on the heaths, and told her how my mistake would cost her the future of her lineage, and how her unborn child and her descendants would suffer and die terrible deaths, murder thousands, and destroy witch-kind once and for all if she didn’t act.”

“Good heavens, Morgyn,” whispered Miss Cackle.

“That’s why we’ve never heard of Maud the Fifth?” whispered Mildred.

“Yes,” said Morgyn, balling her hands into fists and pushing them hands into her pockets, staring at the quiet flames.

“Because of my mistake, there never was a Maud V, or VI. The line ended with poison that night in Albion, and I gathered the broken soul of Maud IV and returned to find the Forest full once more, leading Three to coin the Underworld phrase _‘You know nothing of madness ‘til you’re dispatching Queen Maud_ ’,” Morgyn added dryly, giving another violent shudder.

“How… old were you?” asked Mildred tentatively.

“Six,” replied Morgyn shortly.

“You should never have had to-”

“It doesn’t matter what I _should_ and _shouldn’t_ have had to do,” interrupted Morgyn, turning around to look at her sister heatedly, “all that matters is I _did_ , and because I did, and I made an appalling mistake, people who were meant to be born, never were.”

“What happened then?” asked Mildred, getting to her feet and crossing the room slowly.

“Then?” repeated Morgyn mildly, turning back to the fireplace. “Witch-kind continued, Fate and Destiny got ratty as Hades with Death, and the Gatherer let me start talking to the other Souls.”

“You mean…?” said Mildred confused, standing behind her sister.

“The solution would have been to ask for help,” said Morgyn. “But I didn’t know how to, or who to turn to. That was another mistake, and not one that _you_ need repeat.”

“I never knew you had to do such terrible things,” said Mildred, stretching out a hand and pressing it gently to her sister’s back.

“I remember my mistakes, _elskling_ , every one, and am changed differently by each,” said Morgyn, sighing and turning to take her sister’s upper arms in her hands. “I can’t save you from your own, but I can assure you, you’re not the only Hubble capable of them.”

“I turned Ethel into a bowl of potpourri,” said Mildred, after a brief pause.

Morgyn choked on her exhalation and started to laugh weakly, much to the astonishment of her sister and the displeasure of Hecate. Morgyn tried to get herself under control, slapping a hand to her mouth, but kept catching sight of the three serious faces watching her and snorting again. She bit down on her fist and turned her head away, shaking with laughter.

“Oh, Hades, I don’t know what I was expecting,” said Morgyn, wiping tears from her eyes and gasping for air.

Mildred smiled sheepishly at her.

“Did you really…?” gulped Morgyn, sniggering.

“ _Morgyn_ ,” said Mildred embarrassedly, nudging her sister and meandering back to her seat.

“Sorry, sorry,” begged Morgyn, following her, still laughing.

Miss Cackle smirked quietly to herself, shaking her head in disbelief, which only served to mak Hecate close her eyes with a look of absolute martyrdom.

“All right, so you turned Ethel into a… compendium of dried flowers and spices. But I am thankful that you _didn’t_ endanger all of witch-kind today,” said Morgyn, trying to keep her face serious. “You broke the Code though, I’m guessing?” she added, her chest still rippling with the attempt to hold in her mirth.

“You know I did,” said Mildred bashfully.

“Well, if I may make a point in your defence, _elskling_ , you never plan to make the same mistake twice,” said Morgyn. “True?”

“True,” confirmed Mildred shyly.

“And, no matter how ridiculous your mistakes, you care deeply for the fact that you haven’t a cruel bone in your body,” replied Morgyn. “So, tell Ethel it was a mistake, and _mean_ it, and be glad if you’ve avoided scarring her for life,” said Morgyn, taking her sister’s face in her hands and kissing her forehead.

“You’re still laughing,” pointed out Mildred.

“Oh, yes, yes, I am,” admitted Morgyn freely. “ _Potpourri_ ,” she added, sniggering and covering her face with a hand.

“I _will_ hit you,” added Mildred, not seriously.

“With what, some dried fruit?” asked Morgyn, snorting again and wiping tears from her eyes.

“ _Girls_ ,” said Miss Hardbroom levelly.

Morgyn bit her lip and turned her face away to try to collect herself. When she looked back, both Mildred and Miss Cackle were also shaking with silent laughter and Hecate was rolling her eyes in despair.

~

_Later that night, Morgyn was getting ready for bed when she heard footsteps approaching her door. She paused in the act of pulling her jumper off, listened, and stretched out her witching senses._

Whitish-gold. Scents of peppermint, the subtle perfume Morgyn could never quite make out, and the lingering traces of six separate potions - all of which had been fearlessly tested at various points that day in different classes. Hecate. Morgyn frowned, pulled her jumper over her head and waved her fingers to open the door.

“Is everything… okay?” asked Morgyn, looking at Hecate, who was staring at the ground.

The witch looked up, as if she was a trifle surprised to see where she was and frowned, crossing the threshold and closing the door by hand. That, in of itself, was irregular. Morgyn couldn’t remember seeing Hecate walk to her room, or do anything as menial as closing a door by hand. It wasn’t her style, and the woman was always so _busy_. Too busy to take time to do such simple things.

“Your story, in Miss Cackle’s office,” said the older witch at length, crossing her arms and pacing slowly back and forth across the floor. “I take it, it was the truth?”

“Yes,” said Morgyn, uncomprehendingly.

There was nearly a minute’s silence, apart from the soft click of Hecate’s heels on the stone floor, before Morgyn could bear it no longer.

“Are you disappointed?” she asked resignedly.

Hecate paused in her pacing and looked at Morgyn thoughtfully.

“With you?” she quiered. "No."

Hecate continued to view her meditatively and Morgyn wriggled a little under the scrutiny and folded her own arms warily.

“Then, what is it?” Morgyn asked.

“You had such… power,” said Hecate hesitantly, “and you made such missteps. Yet, you continued to want what was best for your sister?” she voiced, seeming to struggle to find the words.

“My mistakes, if anything, showed me how right I was to think Mildred’s soul was more precious than my own,” said Morgyn, looking down at the floor. “I stayed, knowing she would live if I did.”

“You and Mildred,” remarked Hecate softly, unfolding her arms and rubbing her fingertips together restlessly by her sides, “have a rare bond.”

Morgyn lifted her head a little to look at her tutor curiously.

“That fact - that bond - could never disappoint me,” added Hecate simply, and she curled a hand and disappeared.

Morgyn stood for a long time, staring at the spot where Hecate had vanished, blinking slowly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Elskling" - Norwegian (trans. darling; love; sweetheart)   
> c.f. "älskling" - Swedish (trans. darling)   
> c.f. "elskan" - Icelandic (trans. darling)
> 
> Morgyn may have used magic to help her translate the last testaments of all the magicians she ever Gathered, but there would have been one or two significant people who made such an impact on her that it would influence her speech. This term of endearment is subtle, soft, and Morgyn uses it only for Mildred.


	29. March (Part 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next night, Morgyn managed to get through her potion’s preparation without too many mistakes. Hecate seemed preoccupied with marking and Morgyn hovered by the door for a moment after she’d been dismissed, chewing her lip, before leaving and heading to Miss Cackle’s office resolutely.

_The next night, Morgyn managed to get through her potion’s preparation without too many mistakes. Hecate seemed preoccupied with marking and Morgyn hovered by the door for a moment after she’d been dismissed, chewing her lip, before leaving and heading to Miss Cackle’s office resolutely._

“Morgyn Hubble,” said Miss Cackle, looking up, “what have you been up to _this_ time?”

“Actually, nothing,” said Morgyn, twisting her hands together.

Miss Cackle smiled at her and then motioned her to sit down.

“I need… advice,” said Morgyn nervously.

“Well, if I can help, I will,” said Miss Cackle pleasantly, sitting back in her chair.

“If you…” Morgyn began. “I – eh, well, the thing is-”

“You know,” interrupted Miss Cackle, her eyes twinkling, “sometimes I think you and your sister are remarkably dissimilar.”

Morgyn looked up at her.

“But, then, when I see a certain glimmer in your eyes, that sense of renewed purpose, and an abundance of kinetic life… I’m reminded what good witches the Hubbles will make. By the same token, I’m recurrently reminded when you both get yourselves so terribly tongue-tied over the most trifling things, that _plain speaking_ would save you both a good deal of time and worry. Whatever it is, Morgyn, I think you’d better spit it out,” smiled Miss Cackle, looking at Morgyn over her spectacles.

Morgyn smiled nervously.

“I want to ask Hecate to help me with something, but I’m afraid she’ll only be furious,” said Morgyn honestly.

“Well, is it an academic problem?” asked Miss Cackle impartially.

“Not _exactly,_ ” said Morgyn, “it’s my skyboard. Mr Rowan-Webb thinks she’s the only one who can fix it,” she added, looking sheepishly at Miss Cackle.

“Ah, and she, technically speaking, had a hand in breaking it, if I recall?” said Miss Cackle good-humouredly, to which Morgyn nodded.

“Well, I don’t know what _I_ can say that will help,” said Miss Cackle, “you must ask her for yourself, if _that’s_ what you were thinking,” she added, in her own kind but stern way.

“I suppose I just… wondered how I could maybe persuade her to be... a bit less repelled by me?” said Morgyn, wincing and looking at her boots.

“Hecate isn’t repelled by you,” said Miss Cackle softly.

Morgyn looked up doubtingly.

“She truly isn’t,” confirmed Miss Cackle, with the honesty and certainty of an old witch.

“But I’m such a mess,” said Morgyn, grimacing, “and I’m not exactly _normal_.”

“In her own way, neither is Hecate,” replied Miss Cackle, with a fond shrug. “What _are_ you going to do, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I think, maybe I should reflect on it over the long weekend?” Morgyn ventured.

“An excellent suggestion,” replied Miss Cackle, a twinkle in her eyes.

~

_Morgyn was back in Julie’s flat. She could see the whitish-gold tinge of the ward spells, which hadn’t existed before, entwined around herself and, surprisingly, around Mildred too, protecting them in Hecate and Miss Cackle’s absence. She put down her weekend bag and crumpled into Julie’s waiting arms happily._

She sat in front of her mirror that night, staring at her reflection, after a long call to Esme. Her hair was even longer, even wilder, than normal. She went to the kitchen and took a pot from the cupboard and lit the stove. Julie came through and leaned on the doorframe.

“What you up to, trouble?” asked Julie, with a loveable frown.

“I think I want a change,” said Morgyn, scooping ingredients into the pot.

“Ooo, fun!” said Julie, “do you want us to help?”

Morgyn looked up and saw that both she and Mildred were looking at her eagerly. She smiled and shrugged her assent. By Tuesday morning, when the Hubble girls were ready to set off for Cackle’s again, Morgyn’s change was complete.

_~_

_The students of Cackle's Academy were in neat lines according to their year group on the front lawn in bright spring sunshine._

“Ethel Hallow?” called Miss Hardbroom, taking a register of the Year Twos.

“Yes, Miss Hardbroom,” called Ethel.

“Mildred Hubble?”

“Yes, Miss Hardbroom,” called Mildred, grinning.

Miss Hardbroom heard the smile in the girl’s voice and glanced up to see just _what_ her pupil was up to. Mildred was clutching her broom in one hand and had her arm around the waist of another witch. The other witch was dressed in a black denim dungaree dress, with a grey long-sleeve turtle-neck and grey wool tights underneath. She wore polished leather boots, neatly laced, and a grey witch’s hat. Her hair was a little longer than chin length, wavy and soft, and exactly the same shade as Mildred’s and her face was pale and clean and smiling uncertainly at Miss Hardbroom’s sharp gaze.

“ _Morgyn_?” gasped Miss Cackle’s surprised voice, materialising to Hecate’s left.

“Well met, Headmistress,” replied Morgyn, disentangling herself from Mildred’s shoulders and ducking her head with a hand covering her eyes.

Miss Hardbroom continued to stare at her thoughtfully over her clipboard.

“What happened to _you_?” asked Felicity Foxglove, astounded, as Morgyn placed her hands upon Mildred’s shoulders and squeezed nervously.

“Quietly, girls,” commanded Miss Hardbroom, and then she continued the register as though there had been no interruption.

~

_That evening, Morgyn knocked tentatively on the door of Hecate’s office for their evening potion preparation session._

“Come,” called Hecate.

Morgyn pushed the door open, swallowing hard, and walked in.

“Well met, Miss,” said Morgyn, trying for composure.

“Well met, child,” replied Hecate, motioning vaguely to the chair which Morgyn usually sat in.

“Did you have a good weekend, Miss?” asked Morgyn politely, as she sat neatly and nervously, waiting for Hecate to finish what she was doing.

Hecate looked up - her eyes slightly narrowed as she met Morgyn’s eye. She put down her pen and sat back in her chair, lacing her fingers together.

“What is going on, Morgyn Hubble?” Hecate asked, perfectly composed.

“Miss?” inquired Morgyn politely.

“If I am about to discover that your sister has given you some kind of personality changing potion…”

“She hasn’t,” assured Morgyn, biting her lip and smiling a little, “Miss,” she added, a little late.

“And you haven’t self-administered?” asked Hecate shrewdly.

Morgyn shook her head insistently and rose, holding out her wrists meaningfully over the desk, inviting Hecate to check for herself. The older witch rose too, inhaling audibly, and gripped each of Morgyn’s wrists. Morgyn felt the shiver of familiar magic fizz over her, searching her form for rogue spells and waited patiently until her tutor opened her eyes again and looked down at her cautiously.

“You did not achieve this with magic?” Hecate said, momentarily perplexed, motioning to Morgyn’s hair.

“No, Miss,” confirmed Morgyn, smiling at the thought.

“Then…?” queried Hecate, folding her arms.

“Coconut oil, cinnamon, several combs, _a lot_ of tears, and an incredibly patient mother,” responded Morgyn, smiling and looking down at her shoes.

“You realise it would have been _simpler_ to…?” queried Hecate, wriggling a hand.

“Sometimes, Miss, things just need more trouble and attention,” replied Morgyn simply.

“Indeed?” said Hecate, resuming her seat and waving Morgyn back into hers.

“Which is kind of what I wanted to ask you about, Miss,” said Morgyn bravely, as she sat down.

“Because you are not renowned for causing trouble and attracting attention yourself, child?” asked Hecate blithely.

“Ha,” laughed Morgyn, nervously biting her bottom lip, “actually, I need _your_ help with something.”

“Indeed?” repeated Hecate, her face giving nothing away.

“I… would like to fix something, and I suspect you’re the only one who can,” said Morgyn, twisting her hands in her lap.

“Morgyn Hubble, what _have_ you been up to this time?” murmured Hecate.

“It’s nothing like that, Miss,” said Morgyn hurriedly, almost hopping out of her seat in her haste to assure Hecate that there was no trouble to scold for. “It’s just my skyboard.”

Hecate inhaled deeply, but did not comment.

“I know I shouldn’t have broken your rules, and I’ve learned,” said Morgyn hurriedly, addressing the floor, “but there’s nothing in this world like that board, and I can’t find a way to restore it,” she finished, looking up hopefully at Hecate’s composed expression.

“I was wondering… whether you’d help me find a way to put it right?” said Morgyn, laying all her cards on the table.

Hecate blinked placidly a few times and Morgyn’s chest rose and fell rapidly with anxious breaths.

“I see,” said Hecate slowly, settling back in her chair fully and surveying the girl before her from head to toe: Morgyn’s leg was twitching anxiously, and dark eyes watched attentively as Morgyn pressed down hard on her thigh to try to suppress it.

“This is not _exactly_ an academic problem,” Hecate resumed, after a moment. “But I admit I did, _technically speaking_ , have a hand in causing the damage…” she added, trailing off as her apprentice’s head snapped up and saw the smirk Hecate was giving her.

“She _said_ she wouldn’t ask you for me!” cried Morgyn, outraged.

Miss Hardbroom shrugged nonchalantly.

“Hecate! You already knew, and you made me say all that anyway?” complained Morgyn, exasperatedly.

“Good for your development, and stop rolling your eyes at me, or I will hex them stay that way for a week,” replied Hecate calmly.

“Does this mean you’re not… angry with me for asking?” asked Morgyn hopefully.

“I am not angry at all,” said Hecate, “currently,” she added, to clarify.

Morgyn made a little squeak of glee.

“But, now, I would like to hear you recite,” Hecate added, leaning forwards and handing the list of tomorrow’s potions to Morgyn.

“Thank you,” gushed Morgyn, grinning from ear to ear.

“ _Concentrate_ ,” bade Hecate, even as she noticed a tell-tale Hubble squirm of delight. “And, Morgyn Hubble: if I hear you call me ‘Miss’ again, I will _know_ that you crave something you think I won’t approve of, and you will be grounded until I find out what.”

“Yes, Hecate,” said Morgyn, smiling sheepishly, before taking a deep breath and trying to get herself under control, her toes wriggling happily in her boots.

“Begin,” said Hecate calmly, sitting back in her chair as the girl began to dissect her lesson plans, holding in every sign of her satisfaction with the quirky girl in her care.


	30. A Sorceress's Apprentice (Part 4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgyn was trying her best not to hover at Hecate’s elbow as the witch examined the skyboard.

_Morgyn was trying her best not to hover at Hecate’s elbow as the witch examined the skyboard._

She wanted, _desperately_ , to speak, but Esme had made her swear she wouldn’t irritate her tutor before the Year Four Potions test and Morgyn knew that the moment she said the wrong thing, not only would she be letting Esme down, but she would risk displeasing the only person who could fix her skyboard. She bit her lip and twisted her fingers together until the joints protested.

Hecate walked around her desk deliberately, examining the break in the board methodically and intricately from every angle. Morgyn, meanwhile, scrunched her toes up in her boots in an effort not to rush over and be at her side and ask her what she was thinking. She swallowed, trying to dampen her excitement, not wanting to display impatience. Hecate had her back to Morgyn and was bracing her hands on the desk, in dead silence, looking closely at the board. Morgyn thought she would burst from the effort of containing her restlessness.

At length, her tutor half turned her head to Morgyn, and summoned the girl to her side silently. Morgyn crossed the floor in a blur, resting her hands on the edge of the desk lightly and looking between Hecate and the board with anticipation.

“The damage is extensive,” said the older witch quietly. “I am afraid I cannot fix it.”

Morgyn’s shoulders slumped and her face fell. She stretched out her fingertips to the board miserably and ran them gently along the curved ridge delicately.

“But,” said Hecate, a smile tugging the corners of her mouth, “I know how _you_ can.”

Morgyn looked up at her, eyes wide, earnest, more child-like than Hecate had ever seen before and unexpectedly full of tears.

“Really?” Morgyn asked tremulously.

“Really,” confirmed her tutor gently, summoning a book, and handing it to Morgyn.

“The Craft of Restoration: A Witch’s Guide,” Morgyn read, turning the book over in her hands slowly and sniffling a little with the tears that were running down her cheeks.

“Page 394,” her tutor murmured in her ear before vanishing silently.

Morgyn wiped her tears, opened the book and sucked her lips as she read:

> _“Kintsugi_ (‘golden joinery’) or _Kintsukuroi_ (‘golden repair’), is an ancient Japanese art, whereby broken pottery is repaired with lacquer brushed, or blended, with powdered gold, silver, or platinum. As a philosophy, it treats breakage and repair as _part of the history_ of an object, rather than as something to disguise.
> 
> _The term may yet be accepted into the common parlance of witches, as the practise is directly applicable to the reparation of handcrafted magical objects. While many witches do not have the luxury of gold or platinum to spare for spellcasting, the underlying principle remains the same: a magical object may yet be restored to full use by the installation of an enduring remembrance of the inventor’s magic in corporeal form. For directions, see sections 163(b)-(e)…”_

Morgyn looked up from the book at the empty potions’ lab, smiling bashfully and licking her lips, new tears falling down her cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kintsugi (‘golden joinery’) or Kintsukuroi (‘golden repair’) really is a beautiful ancient Japanese art form - if you haven't already heard of it, have a quick look on Pinterest.
> 
> Page 394, in memory of the late, great Alan Rickman.


	31. Pippa Meddles (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgyn awoke, sweating and crying, one morning in April to find that she had been attempting to emit the beacon enchantment again.

Morgyn awoke, sweating and crying, one morning in April to find that she had been attempting to emit the beacon enchantment again.

It was her third such time but, thanks to Hecate’s extensive ward spells, she was no longer able to get outside the castle at night without being conscious. She was, however, feeling very drained, weak, cold and sticky – particularly as the change in her circumstances had led to a change in the Underworld’s possession spell. Inconveniently, it now seemed to involve stripping off her pyjamas and painting demonology on her chest with charcoal and dragon’s blood.

Hecate was sitting bolt-upright on the edge of her bed, not looking in the slightest bit tired or perturbed to be saving Morgyn from the clutches of the Underworld again at one o’clock in the morning. Morgyn wondered whether her tutor had actually managed to fall asleep yet.

“Sorry,” mumbled Morgyn, wriggling upright and attempting to call the shreds of her pyjamas to herself.

Her magic stuttered and refused to acquiesce. She waved her wrist pathetically for a moment, before giving up with a quiet wail.

“No apology needed, and stop exhausting yourself, silly girl,” responded Hecate, summoning Morgyn an entirely fresh pair of pyjamas and casting an expert cleansing spell over the girl before handing her the garments.

Morgyn shivered, and gladly pulled the soft material over her head. When she looked again, Hecate was holding out a woolly jumper to her silently. She took it and wriggled into it too, before inelegantly pulling on her pyjama bottoms underneath the covers.

“Where did I get the dragon’s blood?” Morgyn wondered aloud, as Hecate gave her a glass of water.

“If I knew that,” said Hecate with a sigh, taking Morgyn’s wrist and checking her pulse, “I’d have done something about it already.”

“I feel a bit sick again,” said Morgyn in a small voice, as Hecate took the glass back.

“I will cast a Safety Slumber,” reassured Hecate calmly, standing up to allow herself more room to tuck Morgyn in.

“Was there anything different, this time?” she added, ignoring the little whine of disobedience Morgyn gave at the thought of being under what her apprentice had referred to at least twice as “the disenchanting baby spell” to Esmeralda Hallow when she had thought Hecate wasn’t listening.

“I don’t remember,” sniffled Morgyn, reaching out a hand to where she hoped Tomaso would see her from his perch on top of the wardrobe, a wayward tear streaming down her cheek.

“Not to worry,” said Hecate gently, laying a hand on Morgyn’s forehead, “it’s time for rest, menace.”

“I don’t want to be tied to the Underworld anymore, Hecate,” Morgyn mumbled, the corners of her lips firmly pointed downwards.

She felt utterly wretched and on the brink of hysteria and wanted very much for someone to know and pick her up and hold her close. Hecate shushed her soothingly, and then moved her palm over Morgyn’s eyes.

“ _Somnus meus parvulus_ ,” she murmured, close to Morgyn’s ear, and Morgyn’s mind and body relaxed immediately.

~

_When Morgyn awoke again, she rolled over cautiously without sitting up._

Her intention in doing so, was to see if she could sense where or if Hecate had set an action specific transference on her. The last time she’d been beaconing at night, she’d been automatically transferred into Hecate’s potions laboratory when she’d woken up, right in the middle of a second-year potions test, which had been embarrassing enough.

She didn’t know what time of day it was now, though guessed that a good deal of time had passed, but she knew there was never really a good time to drop into a class in her pyjamas. She was resolved _not_ to sit up and be transferred until she could get her bearings this time, Hecate’s spells and rules be damned. She spilled carefully off her bed and wriggled across the floor on her belly, in a style that could best be described as commando-reptilian, under the watchful eye of her familiar, Tomaso.

When she had reached her wardrobe, she turned, panting slightly, to see if she could sense the spell in her room and to check her hair in the wardrobe mirror. It was then that she noticed Pippa Pentangle sitting prettily in pink on her study table sipping a cup of tea made in Hecate’s set.

“Hecate thought you might try something like this,” beamed Pippa. “So, _I_ thought I’d schmooze along and keep an extra special eye on you.”

“Miss P.,” grinned Morgyn, ducking her head with her hand to her forehead.

“Well met,” replied Pippa with a wink. “I’m afraid our favourite witch won’t be pleased with her menace.”

“Should I wriggle back over, do you think?” asked Morgyn, unabashed, as she propped her elbows on the floor and rested her chin on her palms.

“I shouldn’t think you’ll have time,” replied Pippa, sipping her tea neatly.

Right on time, Hecate and Miss Cackle walked into the room and looked around in incredulity to see the bed empty.

“Morgyn Hubble,” said Hecate, clicking her tongue.

“Hello, Miss,” snickered Morgyn meekly from the floor.

“Morgyn,” said Miss Cackle, calmly scandalised, “up, and back into bed.”

“I’m feeling better,” assured Morgyn, clambering to her feet.

“Nevertheless,” said Hecate sternly, her eyes flickering up and down Morgyn’s thin form methodically.

Morgyn knew better than to argue. She stepped lightly across the floor and then flung herself inelegantly onto her bed.

“Done,” she pronounced happily, spread out like a starfish on her tummy on top of her covers.

It was Pippa who saved her from a severe telling-off. The blonde witch slipped from Morgyn’s desk immediately and crossed the floor in a pink blur to perch on the bed and lean over Morgyn. She tickled the teenager’s sides pitilessly as she spoke.

“Quite why we all continue to make a fuss of you, Morgyn, is a mystery,” she said wickedly, as Morgyn writhed and giggled.

“Particularly when you’re doing your utmost to behave like a _most_ bad-tempered witchling,” she added, yanking Morgyn closer and leaning on her legs so the girl had even less chance of escaping.

“Leggo! Leggo!” cried Morgyn into her sheets, tears of laughter spilling as she wriggled helplessly.

“Now, have you had time to remember your manners, or do I need to carry on?” asked Pippa lightly, still tickling Morgyn so much the girl was gasping.

“I remember, I remember!” cried Morgyn, trying to prise herself free.

“Promise?” queried Pippa innocently, flipping Morgyn onto her back easily to look her in the eye sternly.

“Promise!” squeaked Morgyn.

“Excellent,” said Pippa, finally releasing Morgyn and sitting up straight, smoothing her pink dress. “Now, into bed, precious menace _._ ”

“ _Tyrant_ ,” Morgyn teased, but she had already relented at the sound of Pippa’s headmistressy tone and sat up obediently to pull back the covers.

As Morgyn did so, she was instantly transferred across the room and landed with a bump at Hecate’s feet.

“I may have forgotten to lift that,” remarked Hecate innocently.

“Hmm,” huffed Morgyn, rolling her eyes and clambering to her feet once more.

Hecate followed her this time as she made her way back to bed and stood over her, her gaze thorough. She leaned over Morgyn’s relaxed form and poked and prodded her methodically, checking her all over for signs of lingering possession and injury.

“Am I me again?” Morgyn asked her, only half-joking, when Hecate had finished.

“Undoubtedly,” murmured Hecate, the briefest of smiles on her lips as she met Morgyn’s eye.

“Do I still have to stay in bed?” asked Morgyn resentfully, though she was feeling very sleepy again.

Hecate held her gaze for a moment, seeing the loops of tiredness around her apprentice’s eyes and the way the girl’s eyelids were already drooping, and then nodded deliberately. Morgyn sighed, but wriggled down into the blankets again obediently.

~

_Early the next day, Morgyn sat up cautiously and paused expectantly to see if she was about to be transferred: nothing happened._

Sighing with relief, she pushed back the covers and bounded out of bed, only to feel as though she’d missed the last stair of a flight when she was pulled into a transference.

“Ung,” she shrieked, as she fell forwards onto the floor of Hecate’s living room.

“Good morning, Morgyn Hubble,” Hecate’s calm voice said.

Morgyn lay in a flop and turned her head in the direction of Hecate’s voice, to see her tutor’s black high heels and the carved wooden legs of her armchair, which were less than a foot away.

“Umph,” mumbled Morgyn into the rug.

“Are you going to lie there for long?” came Pippa’s pleasant voice, when Morgyn failed to move.

“Not as awake as I thought,” slurred Morgyn, placing her face into one of her palms and breathing drowsily.

“Morgyn?” came Pippa’s voice, and Morgyn heard Pippa’s heels touch the stone floor and step away from the other armchair to crouch over her.

“Precious witchling, are you still poorly?” Pippa cooed sympathetically, as she rolled Morgyn over carefully and, with surprising strength, bundled her up into her arms. “Come here, then, little bug.”

“ _Pippa_ ,” came Hecate’s voice, scolding for coddling her scholar.

“We can’t have her getting a chill,” came Pippa’s reply, and Morgyn felt herself wrapped up tightly in something fleecy. “There, now: she’s a caterpillar and can’t come to any harm.”

“I’m not really a caterpillar, am I?” asked Morgyn in a small voice, opening an eye momentarily.

“Of course not,” cooed Pippa soothingly, “Hecate would never allow it.”

“ _Pippa!_ ” came Hecate’s exasperated voice again.

“Oh, _very_ _well_ ,” sighed Pippa, and Morgyn felt herself carried as Pippa walked.

“Wh-what are you doing?” asked Hecate’s voice, suddenly uncertain.

“She’s your caterpillar, you hold her,” said Pippa firmly, laying Morgyn’s bundled-up form on Hecate’s lap. “Don’t look at me like that, Hecate Hardbroom, you wanted to know if she was alright when she woke up, and now she isn’t, so you have a caterpillar to take care of.”

“Impossible witch,” said Hecate in bewilderment.

Morgyn didn’t even have the energy to giggle as Hecate grudgingly made space for her in her arms.

“Where are you going, Pippa Pentangle?” demanded Hecate, as Pippa’s heels clicked on the floor again.

“To make us all tea,” replied Pippa, the beam on her face obvious in the tone of her voice, “we’re not going out for that walk after all.”


	32. April (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgyn spent almost every minute of her free time with Esme.

_Morgyn spent almost every minute of her free time with Esme._

The blonde witch, who had always been quiet, politely reserved and studiously brilliant, had grown more and more silent in large groups of people in the time that Morgyn had known her. They spent a good deal of time together in the library, or walking through the grounds, or sitting in their secret comforting, homely place at the top of the second highest turret.

“I’ve been accepted to Witchester,” announced Esme unexpectedly, one afternoon.

The pair were sitting in their invisible den on the roof of Cackle’s Academy.

“Wow,” said Morgyn, choking on her hot chocolate and turning to look at her friend.

“I don’t know if I can go,” continued Esme matter-of-factly. “I’m not sure it’s right.”

“Why not?” demanded Morgyn, chocolate all over her chin.

“I know Miss Cackle put in a good word for me, and I can’t help feeling uneasy about it,” said Esme with a sigh, handing Morgyn a handkerchief.

“But – Es – surely, that’s beside the point,” said Morgyn, dapping away the chocolatey marks. “Lots of people get good references from their teachers.”

“You _know_ Miss Cackle’s not written on my behalf just because she’s my teacher,” said Esme, looking at Morgyn quizzically.

“Well, by all accounts, you _did_ give up your magic, thinking she needed your help,” remarked Morgyn.

“To Agatha,” corrected Esme.

“Which _you_ didn’t know,” replied Morgyn gently.

“I _should_ have realised,” sighed Esme.

“Yes, and _I_ should have grown up in a two-bedroom flat in the North of England, not in a hammock in the Northern quadrant of the Forest of Souls,” remarked Morgyn pointedly. “In an ideal world, Es, there wouldn’t have been suffering for either of us.”

“Was it still suffering if it was my bad choices?” asked Esme.

“If it wasn’t, why do you feel so cut up about it?” asked Morgyn softly.

“You’re wise about these things,” said Esme, leaning into her friend’s shoulder and sniffing back a few tears.

“Me, wise? What about you, eh? _The brightest witch Miss Cackle ever taught!_ She’s unbelievably proud of you.”

“She _was_ unbelievably proud of me,” corrected Esme. “Until I broke the Founding Stone.”

“To save your sister,” reminded Morgyn, wrapping her arms around her friend. “Miss Cackle does understand, _and_ she knows Ethel created the whole situation.”

“Does that _really_ make it better?” asked Esme, as tears fell down her cheeks.

“It seems to me, Es, that you are faced with a choice,” mused Morgyn, watching a swallow dip and rise above the treetops nearby. “You can accept that Miss Cackle does want you to grow up to be the witch you’ll be, or you can reject her hopes.”

“What?” asked Esme, sitting up and frowning at Morgyn.

“You are fifteen, Es, and you have a whole lifetime of witchcraft yet to come,” remarked Morgyn, taking Esme’s hand in both of her own, “I can see it, and so can Miss Cackle. She’s putting her hope in you, just like she does for all of her students, for when you go out into the witchworld. She’s not supporting you out of guilt, Es, she’s supporting you _in the hope_ _that you’ll be a witch who changes things for the better_.”

“And what if I can’t?” asked Esme uncertainly.

“It’s enough that just by being you, you’ll try,” said Morgyn, squeezing Esme’s hand. “And it’s _more_ than enough that you’ll live a life full of love and magic and adventure.”

“If I go to Witchester, will you come and visit me?” asked Esme after a pause.

“You just try and stop me,” grinned Morgyn.

“I don’t know that anyone but you and Sybil will,” snuffled Esme. “Dad’s still furious, Mum’s barely speaking to me. And Ethel…? Who _knows_ about Ethel.”

“Give it time,” said Morgyn, wrapping her arms around Esme again and bringing her into a hug. “Give it time, and they are going to see how far beyond the past you can grow – and then they’ll know, then they’ll see, the _real_ Esme Hallow.”

Any fleeting thoughts that Morgyn might have had about Esme only spending time with her because her family were ostracised by most of the other girls for their role in the breaking of the original Founding Stone, were quietly and progressively shown the door over the course of Esme’s last term at Cackle’s.


	33. The Citadel (Part 1)

_May arrived and, with it, exam session._ _Morgyn’s fourteenth birthday was only weeks away and she was restless, as the other students buried themselves in their books and the castle fell oddly still._

Morgyn had wrangled a weekend trip out of Hecate, on the basis that she didn’t want to distract anyone, that she’d made _substantial_ progress in everything Hecate had asked of her and, frankly, she _needed_ a break from the exam-related tension at Cackle’s.

Hecate was wary, nonetheless, but was eventually talked (Morgyn suspected, by a certain _pink_ witch) into letting Morgyn go to visit His Grace, the Great Wizard, to give an update on her progress in person. On her own. On a Saturday. Hecate was even persuaded (mostly by Hecate’s other favourite headmistress, Morgyn suspected) to allow Morgyn to stay at the home of a former colleague of Ada’s overnight, provided she was back in Cackle’s by dinnertime on Sunday.

“Fly straight there,” said Hecate, as she stood over Morgyn as she tied her boot laces early on Saturday morning.

“I will,” confirmed Morgyn, refraining from rolling her eyes in case Hecate changed her mind entirely.

“And mirror call, at once,” continued Hecate, crossing her arms.

“Yes,” said Morgyn exasperatedly, as she hooked her weatherworn cloak under her chin and struggled to fasten the clasp.

“And no mischief,” said Hecate warningly, waving Morgyn’s hands out of the way to fasten the clasp herself.

“Hmm-hmm _,_ ” assured Morgyn distractedly, looking around for her hat.

“Morgyn?” said Hecate, “say it.”

“No mischief,” repeated Morgyn, looking at her. “Subtext: no merrymaking, no high jinks, no getting arrested, no having to be picked up from the police station by my guardian.”

“That’s happened before?” enquired Hecate hesitantly, still holding the lapels of Morgyn's cloak.

“No,” said Morgyn, rolling her eyes, placing her hands onto Hecate’s biceps. “And it’s not going to, _I promise_.”

Hecate was pursing her lips and giving Morgyn _that_ look. Morgyn could see she was in two minds again.

“I’m going to be fine, and I’m not planning any trouble,” said Morgyn, reassuringly.

She took Hecate’s pocket watch – the one that always hung around her neck on a long chain and held the whole school to account – in her hands gently and clicked it open.

“And I’m also going to be late for my date with the Great Wizard if I don’t go _now_ ,” she added pointedly.

Hecate gazed at her unfathomably for a few moments, then finally unfolded her arms and took the pocket watch back gently, clicking it shut.

“Be sensible,” said Hecate, straightening Morgyn’s hat, “and for goodness sake, be _safe_ ,” she added, twirling a finger and summoning up a small protective charm on a long necklace, which she settled over Morgyn’s cloak. “Do _not_ take this off, not even in the bath or at night and particularly not when flying that wretched board,” she added sternly.

“Yes, Hecate,” said Morgyn obediently, picking up her backpack and skyboard and crossing to the open window. “See you tomorrow,” she smiled, jumping on the board and soaring out of the window before her guardian could lose her nerve any further.

~

_The Great Wizard stood up to welcome Morgyn into his office in the Magic Council._

“Morgyn Hubble,” he said pleasantly, waving her into a chair, “well met and welcome.”

“Well met, Your Grace,” said Morgyn, smiling nervously and giving the witches' salute.

“Did you have a fair flight?”

“Yes, sir,” nodded Morgyn. “Could I ask a favour?”

“Already?” laughed the Great Wizard.

“I just have to mirror Hecate and let her know-”

“That you got here safely? Of course, be my guest,” said the Great Wizard, motioning to the wide mirror which rested above a mahogany bookcase.

Morgyn smiled and crossed the room, waving a hand at the glass and summoning up the face of Hecate.

“I’m here, and so is His Grace,” smiled Morgyn, motioning to the Great Wizard.

“Good,” said Hecate, feigning nonchalance.

“Well met, Hecate,” said Hellebore.

“Well met, Your Grace,” replied Hecate bowing. “I will leave you to get on, and I shall expect you to call again at nine p.m. precisely,” she added, as someone knocked on the door of her office in the background. “And, Morgyn,” she added sternly, “ _behave_.”

“ _Yes,_ Hecate,” sighed Morgyn, and the glass returned to normal as her tutor’s face disappeared.

“I must say, I was a little surprised when Miss Cackle told me that you would be travelling here alone,” said the Great Wizard as Morgyn came to sit down in front of his desk again. “Hecate Hardbroom did not ask to accompany you?”

“Do you know,” said Morgyn, frowning slightly, “apart from when we were in the Underworld, I’ve never actually seen her leave Cackle’s.”

“That would tally with what I know of her,” remarked Hellebore placidly. “But we are not here to discuss your enigmatic tutor, are we? Tell me, how are your studies progressing?”

~

_Later that day, when the Great Wizard was in council with his advisors and there didn't seem any Earthly impediment to her doings so, Morgyn took her camera and went out into the bright afternoon light and through the gates of the Great Wizard's private residence into the witchworld beyond._

Morgyn’s head spun with the vastness of her freedom as she wandered through the streets of the council citadel. She went into as many shops as she could, wishing that Hecate had let her take more pocket money with her.

“I will _not_ tolerate you corroding your teeth with every sweet known to witch-kind,” Hecate had made abundantly clear.

As Mildred had been next to her at the time, practically bouncing up and down with excitement and envy, Morgyn hadn’t the nerve to argue or turn on the waterworks with Hecate, knowing that it would have been unwise and probably useless to do so.

She was now browsing a collection of books that she was absolutely certain Hecate would confiscate if she brought home, when she noticed a dingy building across the road. Curious, she left the little bookshop and wandered across the cobbles to see what it sold, with the strongest feeling of déjà vu.


	34. Roman (Part 1)

_Morgyn stepped onto the pavement in a dreamlike state, staring at the façade of the curious, dingy building._

She heard an approaching rattling and jingling sound but couldn’t place it, and thus did not react in time to jump out of the way when a boy came careering out of a side alleyway in his wheelchair and crashed into her with an astonished yelp.

“Ouch!” shrieked Morgyn, hitting the cobbles painfully.

“Oh, gods, I’m _so_ sorry,” cried the boy earnestly, righting his wheelchair and wringing his hands apologetically, looking absolutely frantic. “The brakes on this thing are terrible – any sort of incline or rough surface and I’m an absolute elephant. Are you hurt?”

“Not badly,” answered Morgyn, getting to her feet slowly.

She brushed herself down and then looked at the boy curiously. He was fair haired, pale and freckled, around her own age and wore a red, v-neck knitted jumper and sand-coloured cord trousers, sewn off at one knee to accommodate the absence of his lower left leg. His eyes were grey and ringed with worry, and the whole of his small form seemed to radiate his overwhelming nervousness. Then Morgyn noticed what was slung over the back of his wheelchair.

“Are you an archer?” she asked.

“Wh-? Well, yes,” said the boy, gesturing to the longbow frame behind him.

“Are you any good?” asked Morgyn.

“Not bad. Or, at least, I _would_ be good, if my Uncle weren’t so dead set against it,” added the boy, glancing over his shoulder nervously.

“Why, doesn’t he approve?” asked Morgyn in surprise.

“He doesn’t think it’s good for me to be away from home, for tournaments or training or anything like that,” explained the boy with a shrug.

“I don’t understand,” frowned Morgyn.

“I had Dragon Fever,” said the boy, motioning to his legs. “Had to have my leg amputated, and I lost one of my kidneys. He thinks I’m going to get into trouble, or not have the energy to levitate up a flight of stairs or something.”

“That must feel like hogwash,” said Morgyn, gazing at him thoughtfully.

“Are you an archer too, then?” asked the boy.

“I was. But my tutor made me give it up, she’s strictly non-violent unless it’s in self-defence or extreme circumstances,” replied Morgyn.

“And were you good?” asked the boy.

“Oh, yes,” grinned Morgyn.

“My name is Roman,” said the boy, raising his hand to his forehead in the witches’ salute. “Roman Falstaff.”

“Morgyn Hubble, well met,” responded Morgyn.

“Would you… I mean, do you want to come down to the range and practise for a bit – if you’re not busy?” asked Roman hopefully.

“Yes,” replied Morgyn immediately.

As they made their way down the street and across a wide, green park to the riverside, Morgyn listened to the boy chattering and began to see that he led a modest, sequestered life in the citadel – where his uncle worked in a bank and there was only a chef, Bruneau, at home for company and a tutor who visited twice a week to teach history, astronomy and mathematics.

When they reached the tow path, and Roman could more easily spin his wheels without worrying about hitting rabbit holes or mole hills, it was Morgyn’s turn to tell her own story while he gave her his full and undivided attention.

With a little reservation, she told him that she was an apprentice, that she had a sister and a non-witching mother, and that she was on her first weekend of independence from either her mother or her tutor since starting her studies.

“Where do you study?” asked Roman interestedly.

“At Cackle’s Academy,” replied Morgyn, following him down a tributary to the towpath which led to a small, private archery club. “Will it matter that I’m not a member?” she asked quickly, noting the signs and rules.

“No,” replied Roman, “I have a membership, and I’m allowed two guests per half-solstice-year - not that I ever normally have anyone who’ll come with me,” he added ruefully, chapping on the door of a wooden gatekeeper’s hut.

The door opened to reveal a stocky, bushy-bearded wizard in a green boiler suit with bright blue eyes, the tattoos of a sailor on his bronzed forearms and a tremendously kind smile.

“Well met, Master Roman,” said the man in a deep, slow voice.

“Well met, Mr Horace,” said Roman with a genuine smile, and he stretched forward in his chair and performed a curious series of handshakes with the man – as Morgyn had previously only seen one or two teenage girls doing.

“And who might your young friend be, Master Roman?” asked Mr Horace, turning to look Morgyn up and down with interest.

“Morgyn Hubble, of Cackle’s Academy,” said Roman.

“Well met, Miss Morgyn,” said Mr Horace, giving a respectful witches’ salute.

“Well met, sir,” replied Morgyn.

“We’d like to use the Upper Course, if that’s alright with you,” said Roman. “And, I was wondering, whether Morgyn could borrow one of your longbows for an hour or so,” he added.

“Left yours at home, Miss Morgyn?” Mr Horace said to Morgyn with a smile as he reached out a hand behind himself and wordlessly called a beautiful white bow to himself, already strung and ready.

“Wasn’t expecting to have the opportunity,” admitted Morgyn truthfully.

“Well, now, here you are, Miss Morgyn. You both have a nice time now, and just tap my door when you’ve had enough,” said Mr Horace, retreating into his hut again.

“He’s brilliant,” whispered Morgyn, as she and Roman made their way across the safety path.

“I know,” said Roman, “he’s the only person in the whole city who doesn’t treat me like an invalid,” he added with a sigh. “Here we are,” he added, perking up immediately as they reached a wooden platform which looked out over an archery range.

“Do you want to start, or shall I?” asked Roman.

“You go ahead,” said Morgyn, “you’re the regular, show me how it’s done.”

Roman, Morgyn noticed, was indeed a fine archer. His technique and form, slightly adapted to meet the requirements of his injuries, were practised and precise and she watched with admiration as he sent arrow after arrow across the range.

“You’re very good,” said Morgyn, when Roman had emptied his sheaf of arrows.

“Thanks. Go on, your turn,” said Roman, motioning to Morgyn to take centre stage.

Morgyn lined herself up, adjusted the quiver of arrows that she had slung across her shoulder so that they were in position to be replaced quickly, tested the tension of the bow and took a few moments to stare down the course. She breathed in deeply, and then out slowly.

Less than two minutes later, Morgyn lowered her bow after sending ten arrows beautifully down the course to meet various marks. She breathed out, noting how the relief that this particular skill had not deserted her felt, and turned to Roman.

“That was… _Ye gods, Morgyn_. Something tells me you _didn’t_ learn that at Cackle’s Academy,” he said accusingly, his mouth and eyes open in surprise.

“Well, no,” admitted Morgyn, making a note of their scores on the chalkboard and recalling their arrows easily.

“You’re a dark horse,” laughed Roman, beaming delightedly as he rearranged his arrows within the sheaf. “Go on, where _did_ you learn?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” sighed Morgyn, taking a seat on the bench behind where Roman was lining up for a second round.

“No one thought I’d survive the Fever,” said Roman, glancing at her earnestly, “but they all learned to believe that sometimes strength comes from the most surprising places.”

“I grew up in The Underworld,” said Morgyn quietly.

Roman lowered his bow and turned to her, frowning lightly.

“You really had to learn, didn’t you?” he said, a little sadly.

“Yes,” admitted Morgyn.

“I haven’t – I haven’t dragged it all up for you, have I?” he asked worriedly.

“Don’t worry, it’s never far from my mind,” smiled Morgyn weakly.

“Do you mind me asking,” said Roman, putting his bow down and wheeling over so that he was next to her, “why aren’t you in school?”

“I got a weekend pass to visit the Great Wizard,” replied Morgyn, laughing weakly.

“Honestly?” asked Roman.

“Hmm-hmm.”

“ _Honestly!”_ repeated Roman, his eyes wide with amazement.

“Honestly,” confirmed Morgyn.

“So, what, do you work for His Grace?” asked Roman.

“No, he’s just interested in how my apprenticeship is going, since I’m from the Underworld,” responded Morgyn with a shrug.

“What’s he like?” asked Roman, anchoring his elbows of the arms of his chair and resting his chin on his knuckles.

“If I tell you, do you promise not to tell a soul?” laughed Morgyn.

“Absolutely.”

“He’s a bit of a bore, actually,” said Morgyn, wincing a little. “He keeps asking me all these questions about my past, and he’s never asked me how I’m feeling or wanted to know what I’m doing now.”

“He _does_ sound like a bore,” concurred Roman.

“I’ve to go to tea with him and his family at four o’clock,” said Morgyn. “It’s very kind of them, but I’d really rather not – I’m desperate to explore the witchworld.”

“Well, if you’ve only got until four o’clock!” cried Roman decisively.

He spun himself on the spot and collected his bow and arrows swiftly.

“What are you doing?” asked Morgyn in confusion.

“I’m going to be your tour guide,” announced Roman. “We’ve not got a moment to waste, come on!” he declared, and with that he spun himself down the ramp and rapidly across the safety walk back the way they had come.

Morgyn stared after him for a few moments, before laughing delightedly and gathering up her own bow and arrows and running after him.

“We have to see the old castle, and the shipyards and the Cauldron Exchange – not to mention the Dark Arts Theatre and the Museum of Antiquities - and Sylvester’s Sweet Sorcery – that’s a classic -” Roman was saying.

Morgyn followed him, her heart nearly bursting with joy. They stopped only once – to return Mr Horace’s bow and explain where they were going if anyone cared to ask. Mr Horace listened peaceably, and then summoned a large, wooden-handled, green umbrella which he wordlessly handed to Roman.

“ _Avanti tutta_!” cried Roman – which Morgyn didn’t completely understand, but she gleaned enough from the context to guess.

~

_That afternoon was glorious. All across the Citadel, witches and wizards glanced up from their desks in dimly lit offices or across the counters of pavement-side bistros at the sounds of two young people charging up and down the city’s most scenic routes._

Roman was a hive of local knowledge and folklore and, as Morgyn propelled the wheelchair at speed when he needed to rest his arms, he delightedly pointed to things with the borrowed umbrella and called out the names of different streets and recited facts about everything he could remember.

In the ruins of the ancient castle, Roman enlightened Morgyn in reverent whispers the histories of all the ghosts alleged to live there, while down by the shipyards he recounted tales of pirate wizards, life-saving mermaids and a monster that lurked in the canal with an arsenal of brilliant sound effects.

They drew up outside Roman’s favourite café for a very late lunch, which consisted of ice cream, fruit and chocolate sauce all wrapped up in a crepe and lightly dusted with icing sugar. Morgyn sat on the edge of the pavement while Roman acted out – with great gusto – how the heroic firewizards of the 15th century had saved the Citadel from being completely engulfed in flames when the Great Wizard of the day – Rudyard the Relentless – had stolen a dragon egg from the dragon Queen’s lair.

Morgyn clapped and cheered in all the right places, her clothes covered in chocolate sauce and icing sugar, and soon a small crowd from a nearby bistro had gathered to listen to his tale. When Roman finished, the crowd applauded and congratulated him heartily, and one old couple even pressed a crisp bank note into Roman’s hand – telling him he’d do well on the stage.

Roman thanked them profusely, and then turned to Morgyn, his eyes bright and his face glowing.

“There are so many places I think you’d like,” he said, “but there’s one place we simply _have_ to go.”

“Lead on,” assented Morgyn, handing Roman the rest of his crepe – which she had been holding while he told the firewizards’ story.

“Have you ever heard of The Three Peaks?” asked Roman, as he spelled his chair to trundle along gently next to Morgyn as she walked.

“I don’t think so,” said Morgyn.

“The Peaks were a family of explorers and scientists in the seventeenth century,” said Roman, “left here,” he added, motioning to the correct street. “They travelled all over witchworld, collecting stories and finding rare plants. They wrote lots of books and gave lectures on all sorts of amazing things. When they came to Camelot, two brothers and a sister from the Peak family to set up a bookshop – because there were so few places where witches and wizards could read really good witching fiction back then. Over time, they’ve branched out a lot, so it’s not just fiction they sell. There – look – Three Peaks!”

Morgyn looked where Roman pointed and saw an enormous, pale art deco building of around ten floors with beautiful windows of stained glass. The gold-plated sign above the main entrance read: _“Three Peaks Book Emporium, established 1801”_ and there was a company symbol of three, pointed, magician’s hats above the lettering.

“It’s _heaven_ ,” sighed Morgyn.

“Wait ‘til you see the inside,” replied Roman. “Come on, I’ll race you.”

They tore across the quiet street and up the ramp to the main entrance. The glass doors swung open of their own accord, welcoming them into an atrium of black and white tiled floors and tall, leafy potted plants, where glass cases held distinguished novels and grimoires from different stages of history.

“Wow,” sighed Morgyn happily.

“Let’s go to the history section,” said Roman, “you can test me on my knowledge.”

They stepped inside a gold-plated glass elevator and rose quickly to the fifth floor. When Morgyn stepped out through the doors in Roman’s wake, she was completely stunned by the sheer number of books available. Everywhere she looked, witches and wizards were quietly thumbing through volumes, while small children could be seen crouched in the aisles on comfortable little pouffes – lost in the contentment of reading.

Roman led the way to his favourite nook by one of the stained-glass windows and eased himself out of his wheelchair and into the comfort of a high-backed leather armchair.

“Join me?” invited Roman, motioning to a similar chair next to him.

They spent a pleasing hour or more, sifting through beautiful new hardbacks, discussing their favourites and interests, watching all the other witches and wizards and talking of their dreams for the future.

“I really _have_ to go, Roman, I’m cutting it fine as it is,” said Morgyn sadly, checking her watch.

“Is it terrible that I wish you would skip tea with the Great Wizard?” said Roman. “That’s probably some form of treason.”

“Even if it wasn’t, Hecate would murder me if she found out I’d kept my hosts waiting.”

“Who’s Hecate?” asked Roman, placing a hardback carefully in it’s place on the shelf.

“My tutor, Hecate Hardbroom.”

“Hec- _she’s_ your tutor?” Roman cried in a strangled whisper.

“Yes, is that bad?” asked Morgyn, bemused.

“Bad? _Bad?_ Morgyn, it’s _brilliant!_ Come with me!” he demanded excitedly, struggling to get himself back into his wheelchair fast enough.

They got back into the elevator and ascended to the top floor, which was marked “Potionography and Botany”. Roman wheeled himself frantically down the central aisle, past hundreds of books on plants and their properties, until he came to the display he was looking for. It was entitled “Potionography, Botany, Polymathy.”

“Look,” said Roman excitedly, pointing to a row of dark leather volumes.

There were twenty of them, Morgyn saw, each with a different title and some translated into several languages. But what astonished her was the name of the author and illustrator embossed discretely on each: “Hecate J. Hardbroom”.

“I never knew,” Morgyn whispered.

“Go to tea with the Great Wizard,” said Roman, his eyes shining, “and come and find me at this address tomorrow – I’ll wait in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Avanti tutta!" - Italian (trans. full steam ahead!)


	35. The Citadel (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgyn dissolved outside the gates of the Great Wizard’s impressive manor house at three minutes to four. She raced up the driveway, swirling her hands over her outfit to cast a temporary glamour over her dishevelled appearance.

_Morgyn dissolved outside the gates of the Great Wizard’s impressive manor house at three minutes to four. She raced up the driveway, swirling her hands over her outfit to cast a temporary glamour over her dishevelled appearance_.

At precisely four o’clock, she knocked on the door of the Great Wizard’s house and was greeted politely by his housekeeper, who led her through the many rooms and out onto the terrace at the back of the building and directed her to where the family were taking tea on the lawn.

“Ah, Miss Hubble, please, join us,” said the Great Wizard, motioning to a chair next to his wife.

There were seven members of the Great Wizard’s family, ranging in closeness from his wife to a second-cousin or possibly a great-nephew. Morgyn spent a good deal of the meal listening politely and sipping tea. She was still utterly stuffed with ice cream and crepes, but she couldn’t decline their hospitality and pushed herself to nibble on a scone.

After a long day of running around the city, Morgyn was feeling quite weary and she was downright relieved when, after the long, lavish tea and conversation were over, the Great Wizard’s wife, Hillary Hellebore, took her aside and murmured benevolently that no one would mind in the slightest if Morgyn wished to go upstairs and rest, and that supper could be served at whatever hour she pleased. Morgyn then deemed her to be an honest and splendid lady, thanked her profusely, before going to the guest bedroom and flopping onto the bed fully-clothed.

Three hours later, she awoke to the sound of a mirror’s chime and a voice remarking:

“I had no idea bedraggled was this season’s vogue, Morgyn Hubble.”

Morgyn sat up, her hair sticking up all over the place, the temporary glamour long since faded. She bounded off the bed clumsily and sat on the chair in front of the mirror eagerly.

“Well met, child,” Hecate added levelly, now that she had Morgyn’s full attention.

“Hecate,” Morgyn sang elatedly, “you never told me you wrote books!”

“I-” Hecate faltered, taken aback. “Wh- How did you…?”

“I was exploring the Citadel and I met this boy and he took me to Three Peaks Book Emporium and there are so _many_ books: how _ever_ did you have the time to write them all?” Morgyn rushed, beaming at her tutor.

“Boy?” queried Hecate frankly, her usual cool demeanour restored, an eyebrow arching, her lip curling slightly.

“Hecate,” said Morgyn, flatly, “don’t. That’s exactly the same expression Julie uses on Mildred. It doesn’t suit either of you.”

Hecate didn’t say a word, but her face and the incremental changes - the tiniest suggestions in each expression - and her steady gaze made Morgyn squirm.

“I’ll hang up on you,” Morgyn warned, still squirming, “and it’s not like _that_.”

“I look forward to hearing precisely what it _is_ like on your return,” remarked Hecate, in a tone that indicated to Morgyn that she would have absolutely no say in this matter. “Now, please, for the love the ‘Craft, tell me that you did _not_ go to tea with the Hellebores looking like that.”

“I cast a glamour,” smiled Morgyn bashfully, “I didn’t have time to change after doing a whistle-stop tour of the Citadel.”

“And you’ve been asleep because…?” speculated Hecate, her eyes lingering on Morgyn’s mussed hair as the girl yawned and covered her mouth.

“Mistress Hellebore said it would be alright, I was a little exhausted,” explained Morgyn, blushing.

“Hmm,” replied Hecate, ever suspicious, her eyes roving over her apprentice’s clothes, doubtless identifying the sugar for exactly what it was. “Early to bed, then. His Grace will doubtless have other business to attend to tomorrow and I do not want to hear that you have kept his family waiting.”

“Is Mildred alright?” asked Morgyn, yawning again.

“Your sister is perfectly safe and, if I have any luck left at all this century, already on her way to bed too. Go to sleep, Morgyn Hubble.”

“Good night, Hecate.”

~

_As Hecate had predicted, the Great Wizard did have arrangements that involved Morgyn the next day._

Morgyn sat eagerly at the long breakfast table the next morning, listening to the rumble of Egbert Hellebore’s voice as he talked to his advisors about what needed to be done in his absence.

“Now, Miss Hubble, if you are finished breakfast,” Hellebore said at last, “I would like you to accompany me to the Archives this morning. There are one or two matters there that I’d like your opinion on.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” said Morgyn hesitantly.

“You seem uncertain,” said His Grace, looking over his spectacles at her.

“It’s only – well, I was wondering, would you mind if I brought a friend along?”

“A friend?” asked Hellebore in surprise.

“Egbert, dear,” said his wife pointedly, “the dear girl _is_ only thirteen, it’s quite right that she should have company her own age.”

“Ah, yes, yes, of course,” concurred Egbert.

Morgyn beamed at Hillary Hellebore and excused herself from the table to brush her teeth and quickly mirror her mother.

“We’re going to the Archives this morning,” Morgyn told Julie as she battled with her hairbrush.

“What’s that then?” asked Julie, taking a sip of coffee in the Hubble’s living room.

“They hold, apparently, every text ever written by witchkind – and it’s where they keep the original Witches’ Code – and the Underworld Grimoires,” Morgyn explained.

“Sounds fascinating,” said Julie.

Morgyn glanced at her mother. Julie was trying hard to see the appeal, and Morgyn was grateful for it, but it was obvious to Morgyn that this was one matter that a non-witch would struggle to appreciate.

“Anyway, Hellebore says I can bring Roman,” Morgyn continued, choosing not to comment on her observation.

“I look forward to hearing all about him,” grinned Julie.

“That’s what Hecate said,” replied Morgyn, rolling her eyes.

“Thankfully for you, I don’t have half so many ways of _extracting_ gory details as Miss Hardbroom does,” joked Julie with a wink.

“Julie,” said Morgyn, shaking her head, “if I want to have friends who happen to be boys, that’s _my_ business.”

“Our business,” corrected Julie, motioning to herself and Morgyn through the glass.

“And – on that note – I am going to work with the Great Wizard for the day,” concluded Morgyn, “bye Julie!”

“Say hi to Roman for me!” joked Julie, making a little kiss to the mirror.


	36. Roman (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To say that Roman was surprised when Morgyn and the Great Wizard appeared on his doorstep that Sunday morning would be an understatement.

_To say that Roman was surprised when Morgyn and the Great Wizard appeared on his doorstep that Sunday morning would be an understatement._

It was his uncle who answered the door – an espresso in one hand and the Sunday paper tucked under the other. The paper fell to the floor with a splat and the majority of the coffee ended up on the cuff of his shirt as Mr Falstaff practically leapt into a low witches’ salute.

“Well met, Your Grace, what an unexpected honour!” spluttered Mr Falstaff. “Frederick Falstaff, your humble servant.”

“Well met, Mr Falstaff,” replied the Great Wizard. “I have come, at the request of my young associate, Miss Hubble, to ask for the pleasure of your nephew’s company this morning.”

“My-my nephew?” queried Mr Falstaff. “I wasn’t aware – that is – of-of course, Your Grace, I will fetch him at once!”

Mr Falstaff was as good as his word, putting his empty coffee cup on a sideboard and taking the stairs three at a time.

“Do you ever get tired of that?” asked Morgyn, trying to hide her smile as she looked up at the Great Wizard.

“I must admit, it has it’s uses,” conceded the Great Wizard.

Roman and his uncle appeared magically at the foot of the stairs, Mr Falstaff evidently fussing over his nephew with honest concern.

“Just _take_ your overcoat, Roman, even if you don’t _wear_ it,” Mr Falstaff was saying.

“Well met,” grinned Morgyn.

“Morgyn! Well met! Your Greatness, well met,” replied Roman, his face full of optimism.

“If we are ready?” queried the Great Wizard. “I will take care of your nephew as though he were my own, Mr Falstaff, and he will be home by two o’clock.”

“Th-thank you, Your Grace,” said Mr Falstaff weakly.

“To the Archives, then,” remarked the Great Wizard, and Morgyn felt the pull and tug of powerful blue magic lifting her and away from Roman’s house to somewhere else entirely.

~

_When and where they landed, Morgyn looked around with interest to see where the witchworld stored their knowledge._

Pippa hadn’t exactly explained how it was that she and Hecate had come by their copies of the Grimoires, and Morgyn had had the sense not to ask – given that the knowledge they’d contained had gone a long way to aiding Hecate in rescuing Mildred and Morgyn so many months before.

However, as she stood in the gardens of what appeared to be an enormous train station, Morgyn began to realise that – _however_ Pippa and Hecate had come by those texts – it had been no mean feat to find them in the Archives.

The Great Wizard strolled into the main entrance of the building, which had thirteen separate sets of double doors along the front and was at least five stories high. Morgyn followed with Roman in a daze.

“Morgyn, what am I doing here?” he whispered.

“I asked the Great Wizard to invite you,” replied Morgyn.

“But it usually takes _years_ for access requests to this place – you can’t just mosey in!”

“We’re not,” replied Morgyn, “we’re _invited_. And we’re with the Great Wizard.”

Roman wheeled along quietly next to Morgyn as they passed through a set of double doors. On the other side of these was a wide, high ceilinged room with lots of natural light and several upper floors visible over glass balconies.

“This is just the recent paperbacks, of course,” said the Great Wizard dismissively, waving a hand at the upper floors of the chamber.

Neither of the two young people could think of anything to say to this, so they hurried along in the Great Wizard’s wake, dodging between bustling clerks and speeding trollies of books and a throng of smartly dressed witches and wizards all hastening about their business.

Several people stopped to great His Grace, and each little delay allowed one or other of the young people to point out something else to the other in awe: the fine mosaic floor, the floating self-filing quills, the uniformed wardens who patrolled with staffs.

It only took a few minutes for word to spread that the Great Wizard was on the premises and a flock of senior-looking officials were soon hastening towards them across the wide atrium.

“Well met and welcome, Your Grace,” said one of them.

“Ah, Greaves, I require the Archivist,” commanded the Great Wizard.

“Certainly, Your Grace, if you’d care to follow me,” replied Greaves, straightening up from a low bow.

The Great Wizard turned his head slightly to Morgyn and Roman and beckoned them closer, which Morgyn thought was just as well since no one seemed to have realised that His Grace had company.

“Who is the Archivist?” Morgyn asked, as she and Roman hurried along next to the tall wizard.

“His name his Hector Penchant,” replied the Great Wizard. “He is extremely clever, highly knowledgeable in history and the arts, and a leading authority in many areas of magic. But his is also the librarian and caretaker of a particular set of sacred texts.”

The party came to a set of elevators and Greaves pressed the call button and bounced on his heels agitatedly as he waited for the lift to arrive. When it did, and they had stepped inside, Greaves held his hand flat against a panel next to the row of buttons. There was a flicker of light underneath Greaves’ hand and a pleasant voice said:

“Please state which member of staff you require.”

“Hector Penchant, Archivist of the First Order.”

Without warning, the elevator plummeted at breakneck speed and both Morgyn and Roman gave a little cry of alarm and grabbed each other’s arms. Greaves and the Great Wizard were both unperturbed, standing with their feet slightly apart and hands clasped behind their backs.

“Decent sort of weather we’ve been having,” remarked the Great Wizard to Greaves as they plunged down so quickly the world outside was a blur.

“Indeed, You Grace, most gratifying,” replied Greaves.

“Might even get a bit of cricket next weekend,” commented the Great Wizard mildly.

Roman and Morgyn were just exchanging looks of terror when the elevator suddenly broke through the darkness and slowed to a normal pace. The view was of a wide cavern, hewn from solid marble, and below them a pool of impossibly blue water with a landing beach leading to a large rectangular desk with flaming torches on either side.

The elevator stopped on the beach and Greaves motioned to the children to follow His Grace as the Great Wizard strolled easily along the hard sand towards the desk. There was a man standing behind the desk, his long, dark, beard braided with beads which matched the subtle colours of his waistcoat.

“Egbert!” said the man cheerfully in welcome, as the two children watched in amazement as the elevator and Greaves shot upwards from the ground again and disappeared into the catacombs above.

“Hector,” replied the Great Wizard. “May I introduce-”

“Morgyn Hubble, Thirteenth Heir and former apprentice of the Soul Gatherer, and Roman Falstaff, son of the late Richard and Robyn Falstaff of Camelot,” interposed the man, giving the Great Wizard a wink.

“It really is infuriating when he does that,” remarked the Great Wizard over his shoulder to the two children.

Morgyn was slightly open mouthed, standing in the deep sand, and looked between the two men and Roman – who was struggling with his wheelchair.

“A thousand apologies,” said Hector at once, clicking his fingers and turning the sand to smooth marble beneath them, “our head of security insisted I move down here a few months ago, I can’t help but feel he takes his job a little too seriously sometimes.”

“How do you know who we are?” asked Morgyn, when she and Roman had re-joined the Great Wizard.

“Hector is an avid student of Portending,” sighed His Grace. “There are very few people to walk through these hallowed halls whom he has not already foreseen there.”

“Indeed,” said Hector, giving a bow and a knowing smile to Morgyn.

Morgyn swallowed hard at the implication of these words and gave a jerky witches’ salute.

“How can I be of assistance, Egbert?” asked Hector, turning back to His Grace.

“I have brought Miss Hubble with me today, as she is one of only three living beings who know the Underworld…”

“Intimately?” offered Hector.

“Indeed,” replied His Grace. “It is my hope that, with your assistance, Miss Hubble may be able to verify or correct several of our notions relating to that realm.”

“That is no small task, particularly for one so young,” mused Hector.

“I am aware,” replied His Grace coolly. “I do not expect her to achieve all of this in a day. But perhaps, we might come to some arrangement.”

“Are you an apprentice still, Miss Hubble?” asked Hector.

“Yes, sir,” replied Morgyn.

“And what does your Mistress and Mage say to all this?” he queried.

“That’s what tutors were called, historically,” whispered Roman, when Morgyn looked confused.

“Oh, Hecate? Umm, I’m not sure,” said Morgyn honestly.

“Then we will discuss it with her, at her earliest convenience,” said Hector.

“Uh, no, no, there’s no need for that,” said the Great Wizard hurriedly. “I’m certain that the good lady will see things favourably.”

“Egbert, were Morgyn your daughter or granddaughter, you would obliterate anyone who even attempted to make such a decision without your authorisation,” remarked Hector coolly. “Do not suppose that Hecate Hardbroom or the child’s mother are any different.”

“Morgyn Hubble grew up in the Underworld, Penchant, she hardly needs a sorceress’s blessing to do a bit of public service,” replied the Great Wizard testily, clicking his tongue.

“It is not in my nature to act in opposition to any familial bond,” Hector responded, “and I simply refuse to continue this line of conversation until I have the blessing of both her mistress and her mother. And now, Miss Hubble, Mr Falstaff, I should like to know all about your adventures in Camelot,” added Hector, motioning with an arm for them to follow him into a side cave where there were several comfortable chaise-longue and a warm, roaring fire waiting.


	37. May (Part 1)

Morgyn landed, her knees little stiff from the long flight, but in good spirits and in good time for the Sunday evening meal. She carried her skyboard and bag up to her room, and pulled her windswept hair loosely into a bun, before nipping back downstairs and greeting the staff at the teacher’s table.

“Well met,” she sang, smiling brightly.

Dimitty got up and gave her a hug.

“Hiya, Hubble,” said Dimitty, beaming as she released her. “Good weekend?”

“Quiet,” said Morgyn.

“Hmm,” said Dimitty sceptically, noting Morgyn’s windswept and tired appearance.

“I’m sure you’ve grown again, these past twenty-four hours!” said Miss Bat, as Morgyn sat down next to her.

Morgyn beamed at her and Mr Rowan-Webb.

“It’s good to have you home,” said Miss Cackle, her face breaking into a happy smile across the table.

Morgyn felt her face split into a beam, pleased.

“Where’s…?” Morgyn began, turning around in her chair to see Hecate, surrounded by a gaggle of her second-year class, walking into the room.

Hecate’s face was as pale and impassive as usual as she directed them into the queue for dinner and stood by to ensure there was no pushing. Among them, Morgyn saw Mildred, Maud and Enid. Mildred turned, caught sight of Morgyn, and beamed and waved at her.

Hecate’s head turned to see who Mildred was looking at, and her eyes fell on Morgyn as she returned the wave and mouthed “ _elskling_ ” to Mildred. Morgyn smiled at Hecate, bowing her head with a hand covering her eyes and met her tutor’s gaze. Hecate made a slight but graceful motion with her head in acknowledgement.

When Hecate had finished overseeing her pupils, she made her way to the staff table and sat down next to Ada, viewing Morgyn across the table as she poured herself a goblet of water and spread her napkin across her lap. Mrs Tapioca came up and served Hecate personally.

“How was His Grace?” asked Ada brightly, now that Hecate was present.

“He seemed… himself,” said Morgyn, truthfully.

“You mean smug as a pug?” said Algernon, leaning forward to grin at Morgyn past Miss Bat.

“I couldn’t possibly comment!” said Morgyn, feigning shock and avoiding Hecate’s gaze.

“And was he pleased with your progress?” asked Ada hopefully.

“Bizarrely, yes,” said Morgyn, smirked.

“And, of course, with _himself_ ,” said Algernon in an undertone.

“ _Algie!_ ” muttered Gwen in a low voice.

“And what _else_ did you get up to?” asked Miss Drill.

“Well, I walked everywhere and tried to see everything, and had tea with the Great Wizard and his family,” said Morgyn. “It was fine,” she added, shrugging.

“And no silliness, nothing dangerous?” asked Miss Drill, waggling her eyebrows.

“It was _glorious_ ,” continued Morgyn loudly. “I went to the castle and the shipyard and an enormous bookshop, and I met some councillors and librarians from the Archives, and walked all over the Citadel and took pictures of just about everything,” she added, helping herself to some bread.

“Nothing to declare, then?” asked Miss Drill with a sigh.

Morgyn continued to dunk her bread casually.

“No, Dimy,” she said affectionately, with a brief smile to the P.E. Mistress, glad that Mrs Tapioca came to clear the plates at that point.

That evening, there was a monthly talent show – which Mildred had utterly begged Morgyn to come and watch, as she and her friends had an act together – and it was later than usual when Morgyn finally fell into her familiar bed with small relief.

~

_Morgyn was at breakfast before Hecate the next morning, and choose a seat on the other side of where Ada always sat – knowing that Hecate would sit on Ada’s right._

Ada was the next person to arrive at the table, and the two of them chatted companionably as the school girls began to filter in tiredly. Hecate appeared, having shepherded her Year Twos out of their beds, and her eyebrows flickered in surprise at seeing Morgyn at the table before her.

Morgyn had never gotten past her initial stretching of the definition of “attending breakfast” and still frequently wandered in late and slurped coffee (if Hecate didn’t get to her before she got to the caffeine) and munched toast with Gwen, who similarly detested mornings, even though Miss Cackle had recommended Morgyn sit with the staff during this exam season.

“And then, of course, we were left with three extra cats,” Ada was remarking as Hecate sat down.

“Aww,” said Morgyn, pulling a face of adoration, “what did you do?”

“Thankfully we had an exceptionally high intake of First Years that summer,” said Ada, smiling at her Deputy. “So, we found them all good mistresses in the end.”

“ _Bless_ ,” cooed Morgyn. “Morning.”

“Morgyn Hubble,” replied Hecate.

Morgyn hadn’t taken long when she had first arrived at Cackle’s to notice that she wasn’t the _only_ witch who didn’t enjoy mornings, even if she was the only one who would _admit_ it. She passed the coffee pot to Ada, who poured her Deputy a wholesome cup and pressed it into the woman’s hands with a soft smile.

“Back to the grindstone today, Hubble?” said Miss Drill as she breezed in and sat down opposite Morgyn.

Morgyn nodded and smiled, sipping her orange juice with her elbows on the table.

“Think I’ll go to the library, if that’s okay with you?” said Morgyn, draining her glass and rising, looking at Hecate for permission.

“Well, the weekend seems to have done her the power of good,” said Ada cheerfully, buttering herself some toast.

“Hmm,” responded Hecate thoughtfully, sipping her tea.

~

_Morgyn was once again glad that she wasn’t expected to attend regular lessons that morning._

Truth be told, she was really rather exhausted after the weekend. She pottered about the library stacks, sorting through ancient and crumbling texts until Hecate arrived to check on her at around eleven o’clock.

“I am pleased to see your weekend has not left you incapable of working,” said Hecate dryly.

Morgyn snorted, twisting around in the dusty clutter to look up her tutor.

“I did _promise_ I wouldn’t get arrested,” she reminded Hecate.

The older witch smirked, and approached, motioning to Morgyn to sit with her. Morgyn sank onto the wooden pew and dragged her knees up to her chest and hugged them, looking expectantly at Hecate. Hecate sat down next to her, gazing around the stacks noncommittedly.

“Tea?” asked Hecate vaguely, summoning up a pot and two cups before Morgyn had even nodded.

The pot floated in the air, unaided, and Hecate poured for Morgyn and herself silently.

“How have things been?” asked Morgyn, clasping the cup in her hands snugly and blowing on the surface, watching her pale tutor.

“In the previous forty-eight hours?” asked Hecate blithely. “ _Unusually_ quiet.”

“Is this your way of saying you missed me, Pet?” teased Morgyn, earning herself a mild glare from Hecate. “Apple?” she continued, summoning up two and beginning to polish one on her shoulder, holding the other out to her tutor.

Hecate accepted it, setting her cup on the bench between them in order to summon a thin skillet.

“What did the Great Wizard ask you?” Hecate probed calmly, as Morgyn watched, enrapt, as the apple peel slowly came loose in a long skein in Hecate’s skilful hands.

“He asked _lots_ of questions,” murmured Morgyn, “he wanted to know everything there was to know - about the Underworld and history and my magic. And you,” she added, blinking slowly, “he wanted to know everything about you too.”

“And what did you tell him?” pressed Hecate quietly, her eyes on her task, her hands perfectly steady.

“I said I was your apprentice, not your confidant,” said Morgyn absentmindedly, “and if he wanted to know you, he ought to have the grace to ask you himself.”

Hecate glanced up at her then, her eyebrows raised.

“Except I said it more politely than that,” amended Morgyn, blushing slightly and seeming to come to herself for a moment.

Hecate inclined her head slightly, decided not to press the point, and went back to her task.

“And the Underworld, what were his conclusions?” Hecate asked in the same, low tone, loosening the last of the apple skin and setting it twirling in the air as she proceeded to core the apple.

“He took me to the Archives,” sighed Morgyn, watching the spinning apple

Hecate paused to stare at Morgyn in alarm.

“And he wanted me to tell him how accurate they were,” mumbled Morgyn, noting Hecate’s face.

“And did you?” asked Hecate, dumbfounded.

“The Archivist – Hector Penchant – wouldn’t let Hellebore start me working there without the permission of… well, you.”

“I see,” mused Hecate, breathing more easily and lifting the apple core and settling it within the still-spinning skin.

“There was so much of it,” said Morgyn in a faraway voice, reaching out a finger to the spinning apple, wondering which combination of spells Hecate was using. “I hadn’t realised. They make this place look like a bookshelf.”

“Hmm,” said Hecate.

“He’s going to visit at Beltane to ask you,” said Morgyn, still captivated by Hecate’s craftiness.

“His Grace?”

“Yes. Hector Penchant will be with him. He – Hector – isn’t like Hellebore.”

“Is that so?” said Hecate, as she cut the apple into thin slices.

“Hmm,” murmured Morgyn, “he would like me to help at the Archives during the summer,” she said dreamily. “But only if I want to – and if it’s okay with you, obviously,” she added quickly, seeming to break out of her trance and looking at Hecate quickly.

“Is that something you’d value?” asked Hecate, giving Morgyn a slice of apple and delicately eating a slice herself.

“I think so, yes,” said Morgyn, biting down on the sweet fruit and watching the spinning skein.

“And your mother is willing to part with you?” queried Hecate calmly.

“I… haven’t asked her yet,” said Morgyn, sucking in her bottom lip, “she… doesn’t really understand my history. She did an excellent impression of pretending to understand how important the Grimoires are though,” added Morgyn dryly.

“Really?” asked Hecate, glancing disbelievingly at Morgyn.

“No,” snorted Morgyn, “it was on par with the time Mildred tried to pretend she didn’t have that gobstopper at assembly,” she grinned.

“Hmm,” mused Hecate, remembering the incident and Mildred’s cheeky, beaming face afterwards.

“But I think Julie will say yes, if she thinks it’s something that’d be good for me,” said Morgyn, accepting another slice of apple. “But only if _you_ say yes,” she added.

“To an internship?” said Hecate, inhaling deeply and lifting her head thoughtfully. “It could be intellectually beneficial,” she reasoned.

“Does that mean I can go?” asked Morgyn hopefully.

“That will depend,” replied Hecate offhandedly, getting to her feet.

“On what?” asked Morgyn, scrambling to her feet too.

“Your studies, your behaviour, your wellbeing and, of course, on what your mother and Miss Cackle have to say on the subject,” replied Hecate matter-of-factly, tapping the spinning skein with a graceful finger and turning it to copper instantly.

“Paper weight,” she added broodingly, taking the cool metal in her hand and examining it for a moment, before handing it to Morgyn for her to do the same. “I am conducting remedial detention for the first year during lunch, but Miss Drill will expect you at High Table,” she concluded.

“Can I… keep this?” Morgyn said, looking hopefully up at her tutor.

Hecate blinked and nodded her head once.

“You will then be with Mr Rowan-Webb this afternoon until half past two, when Miss Cackle will expect you in her office promptly,” Hecate continued, turning to leave. “I will see you at dinner.”

“Thank you,” called Morgyn quickly, noting how Hecate paused in her step for only a half-second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beltane is the midpoint between the vernal equinox and summer solstice – it was a traditional Gaelic/Celtic festival in Scotland and Northern Ireland, which denoted the beginning of summer. Usually, it falls on or around May Day (1st of May).


	38. May (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgyn was yawning by the time she plodded to Hecate’s office that evening.

_Morgyn was yawning by the time she plodded to Hecate’s office that evening._

Her head was beginning to hurt and the muscles in her arms ached gently with her every move. Upon knocking on the office door and being admitted, she tried her best to draw herself up to her full height and pull a determined smile onto her face.

“And _I_ thought you looked tired this morning,” remarked Hecate blandly, glancing up at her.

Morgyn’s shoulders deflated.

“I am that obvious?” asked Morgyn, scratching her neck self-consciously.

“To me,” Hecate shrugged slightly. “Sit, child.”

Morgyn did so with a sigh and rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands.

“Do you honestly expect me to believe you are going to take in any craft I teach while you are in this state?” queried Hecate.

“No,” replied Morgyn in a small voice.

“Then we find ourselves in something of a predicament, do we not?” continued Hecate, viewing her apprentice carefully.

“Hmm,” responded Morgyn, massaging her upper arms mindlessly.

“Hmm,” agreed Hecate. “Tell me, what _else_ did you do this weekend?”

“What do you mean?” queried Morgyn innocently.

“Your arms, why are they sore, Morgyn Hubble?” asked Hecate pointedly.

“They’re not!” Morgyn said hurriedly.

Morgyn didn’t have time to see her tutor’s magic flare and vanish before the woman was bearing down on her from her left-hand side, pinching and prodding her shoulders and upper arms. Unable to stop herself, Morgyn have a little squeak at the assault to her tender muscles and shot out of the chair and stood - gazing mutinously at her smirking tutor.

Hecate folded her arms and raised a knowing eyebrow at Morgyn.

“Tell me you _haven’t_ been doing what I think you’ve been doing,” Hecate prompted.

“I – well, I-” Morgyn gabbled, rubbing her arms.

Hecate beckoned her closer with a finger and Morgyn shuffled into her reach reluctantly. Hecate held out her left hand for Morgyn’s right; Morgyn warily put her hand into her tutor’s and watched as the witch uncurled her fingers gently; showing where the blisters and small lacerations covered the skin of her fingers.

“These are the hands of an archer who has long since lost her callouses,” remarked Hecate, running a fingertip across Morgyn’s broken skin.

“I was keeping someone company,” mumbled Morgyn, “I don’t think he has a single friend– it’s just that archery makes him feel… alive.”

“Hmm,” murmured Hecate, summoning a small rounded tin containing a dark purple balm.

Morgyn watched interestedly as Hecate treated her friction burns delicately.

“Is this one of yours?” asked Morgyn, putting her nose close to the balm to sniff.

Her tutor pushed her head gently out of the way with an arm.

“From one of your books?” Morgyn pressed, trying to see the balm at work on her hands before Hecate had finished dispensing it.

“Nose out,” warned Hecate.

“I want to read them,” stated Morgyn.

“You wouldn’t,” advised Hecate, closing the tin and vanishing it.

“But I do – Roman says they’re rad.”

“Not a reaction I was anticipating,” murmured Hecate, turning back to her desk.

“It just means good,” responded Morgyn, refusing to give up this train of opinion. “I think you’d like him: he’s the quiet, brainy type and he’s good with history.”

“ _My_ opinion of him is somewhat irrelevant,” replied Hecate, sitting down again.

“It’s _not_ like that,” Morgyn responded, rolling her eyes.

“Of course not,” remarked Hecate, deadpan.

Morgyn considered rising to Hecate’s bait; she considered how wound-up she could get about the subject; how passionately she could deny that there was anything except pure friendship between herself and Roman; considered having to look at Hecate as the infuriating witch continued to stay calm while she herself got redder and redder in the face.

“I haven’t forgotten my archery,” said Morgyn tactfully. “But my arms’re sore. I’m out of practise,” she added, flapping her arms at her sides with a little face.

“Thankfully,” replied Hecate pointedly.

“I think it might be helpful if I started to train again though,” wheedled Morgyn.

“Absolutely not,” replied Hecate flatly.

“I know you’re into non-violence, but-”

“You would be making yourself an enticing target for the Entities,” replied Hecate testily. “Considering Death himself, as you well know, _collects_ noteworthy witches.”

“But if they still want me _–_ because of my history and my future – _surely_ it’s got to be better that I’m prepared?” said Morgyn imploringly.

“Morgyn Hubble,” replied Hecate, giving her a gale-force nine, icy stare.

“Give me a chance, I’m not some helpless kid!” pled Morgyn impatiently.

“You are-” Hecate began and then bit down on whatever she was going to say.

“I’m what?” asked Morgyn. “What, Hecate, I’m _what_?” Morgyn asked, leaning on the desk, frowning at her tutor.

“You are not helpless,” said Hecate, more calmly. “But you are underage.”

“That’s not the point-” Morgyn burst out.

“What did it feel like?” Hecate interrupted.

“Wh-?” Morgyn began, deflating from her anger as confusion rose.

“When you realised you were still an accomplished markswoman, what did it feel like?” asked Hecate, steepling her fingers and resting her chin on them, surveying Morgyn carefully.

“I don’t understand,” said Morgyn, shuffling her hands back towards herself on the desk.

“I think you do. Tell me, what were you feeling, when you were using a bow, shooting accurately, did it make you feel powerful?”

“Not exactly,” said Morgyn.

“Did you feel entertained, did it bring you amusement?

“Well, no, not really,” said Morgyn hesitantly.

“Then, what, pray, did you feel?” asked Hecate.

“I suppose I felt… relieved,” admitted Morgyn.

“Go on,” prompted Hecate.

“Because I realised, I could still do it.”

“Do what?”

“Shoot.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“What else could you still do?” asked Hecate.

“I could… look after myself,” admitted Morgyn.

“And therein lies my concern,” replied Hecate softly. “Your safety is my prerogative, Miss Hubble. That we find ourselves in the situation, after several months, where you are reluctant to lay down your arms is deeply worrying.”

“It’s not like that!”

“Yes, Morgyn, it is. If I thought for one moment that archery was purely recreation to you, that you were looking at your bow and arrow as tools in a peaceful pastime, I wouldn’t have the slightest concern about letting you practise. But I don’t believe that is the case.”

“It is, Hecate, it really is,” wailed Morgyn.

“No, the truth is you still don’t feel safe on The Surface. I have failed to make you feel protected.”

“No, you haven’t!” cried Morgyn. “I was just- just messing around-”

“No more lies, Morgyn, and no more tears,” counselled Hecate evenly. “You are not in trouble, child,” she added.

“Then why won’t you let me?” wailed Morgyn.

“Because, my apprentice, you bear my protection wherever you go, and you need to realise that you no longer have to attack everything that distresses you.”

Morgyn was sniffling, and rubbed her eyes with her sleeve.

“Can I still talk to Roman?” she asked hopefully, after a long pause.

“Of course,” replied Hecate. “You may go now,” she added, opening the office door with a wave of her hand.


	39. May (Part 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Is that what I think it is?” asked Morgyn, as she crawled into her and Esme’s den.

“Is that what I think it is?” asked Morgyn, as she crawled into her and Esme’s den.

“That depends,” said Esme, clearing her throat.

“On whether I think it looks like a travel mirror?” guessed Morgyn.

“Precisely,” replied Esme, handing over the glass.

The compact had a smooth mosaic pattern on the back and the cover was curved to fit comfortably into the user’s hand.

“When you said I wouldn’t have to wait in line to talk to Roman, you really weren’t joking,” said Morgyn, admiring the small glass carefully. “Did you really make this, all on your own?”

“I really did,” replied Esme. “I made the actual mirror when I was…”

“On sick leave, without your magic,” put in Morgyn.

“Exactly. My grandmother signed me up to an art class, thought it would help with the loss,” explained Esme.

“Wise woman,” replied Morgyn. “And you’ve worked out how to make it a communicator?”

“Yes,” said Esme bracingly. “It hasn’t short circuited yet, so to speak, and I think it should work for a long-distance call.”

“One way to test,” grinned Morgyn, holding the glass out at arm’s length, so that both she and Esme were reflected in it. “Roman Falstaff!” she stated.

The mirror swirled and Roman’s delighted face appeared.

“Well met, Morgyn!” he practically bellowed.

“Well met! This is Esme.”

“Esmerelda Hallow? Well met!”

“Well met. I’ve heard so much about you, it’s good to finally meet you.”

“And you! Morgyn said you were working on a magic mirror – I take it this proves that it works!”

“She’s marvellous,” said Morgyn proudly.

“It’s nothing,” replied Esme, blushing.

“It’s not nothing, it’s marvellous,” corrected Morgyn.

“How is Camelot at this time of Year?” asked Esme, still blushing.

“Getting insufferably hot. The grass is patchy and dry, the roads are sweltering, and everyone is flying the brooms like maniacs to try and get a decent cool breeze. The Beltane festivals were ridiculously warm. But tell me all about the Great Wizard’s visit!”

“Oh, he was as grumpy as he usually is,” replied Morgyn, rolling her eyes and receiving a hard nudge of disapproval from Esme. “But Hector was absolutely charming. I think most of Cackle’s are a tiny bit in love with him now. Even Hecate was polite to him.”

“High praise indeed!” said Roman. “Did she come to a decision about your internship?”

“It’s looking positive,” responded Morgyn brightly. “She’s mostly concerned that I might have a fit of possession while I’m away, and Hector is working really hard to find some magical work-around to shield me. They are almost becoming pals, I think.”

“Which, coming from the point of view that Miss Hardbroom would rather smite most men, is remarkable,” put in Esme.

“So, Hecate isn’t going to be coming with you?” said Roman, a little frown on his forehead.

“Sorry, Roman, I’m sure you’ll get to meet her sometime soon – but she says she has other matters to deal with during summer, and I think she deserves a break from looking after me all this time anyway.”

“She’s not going to be taking a break,” Esme corrected, rolling her eyes, “she’s just going to be micromanaging from a distance.”

“You’re so lucky, though,” said Roman.

“I’ll get to see you all the time,” grinned Morgyn. “I mean, Hecate’s made me _swear_ I won’t do any archery myself, but I don’t see why I shouldn’t be allowed to come and keep you company.”

“You can be my coach!” Roman remarked delightedly.


	40. June

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgyn awoke on her fourteenth birthday to what felt like a bear falling on her from height.

_Morgyn awoke on her fourteenth birthday to what felt like a bear falling on her from height._

As she opened her mouth to scream, she felt a hand press across it and opened her eyes wide to see Mildred, Esme, Maud and Enid all grinning down at her.

“Happy birthday,” whispered Mildred, removing her hand from Morgyn’s mouth and throwing herself around Morgyn’s shoulders, her long hair tangling around both of them.

“It’s today?” said Morgyn weakly, “I’d forgotten.”

“Yes, silly,” said Esme, pulling Morgyn into a hug as soon as Mildred had released her.

“Is this normal birthday stuff?” queried Morgyn. “Breaking into someone’s room at dawn to flatten them?”

“Yes,” replied Enid placidly, wrapping her arms around Morgyn too.

“Happy birthday,” grinned Maud.

“Here,” said Mildred, handing Morgyn a large parcel, “present from Mum.”

“Really?” said Morgyn, her mouth falling open.

“Go on,” said Mildred, watching as Morgyn carefully opened the package and an enormous array of confectionary tumbled out onto the bedspread, “she says no girl should have a birthday without risking toothache. And this is from both of us,” she added, handing Morgyn a squarish package.

Morgyn opened it too and a photograph album fell out. Morgyn opened it, tears already pricking her eyes, and gazed at the smiling faces of her sister, her mother and herself from the first page. She turned the pages slowly, taking in the happy memories of her family and friends with wonder.

“It’s brilliant,” whispered Morgyn.

“I knew you’d like it,” said Mildred, hugging her sister again.

“Here’s one from us too,” said Maud, motioning to herself and Enid.

Morgyn opened the gift and found a handy knapsack sized set of potions vials.

“Maybe you’ll use them to get back in HB’s good books,” whispered Enid conspiratorially.

Morgyn laughed softly and gave them both a hug.

“They’re lovely,” said Morgyn.

“And this is from me,” said Esme, handing another squarish package to Morgyn - who pulled it open tenderly to find a clean, gold covered journal lay in her hands.

“It’s beautiful,” whispered Morgyn, suddenly overcome.

She pressed a hand to her mouth and started to cry, leaning into Esme. At that moment, the bedroom door flew open and Hecate stormed in and regarded them all in amazement.

“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded reproachfully, taking in the early morning pyjama party around Morgyn’s sobbing form.

“It’s her first birthday, since she hasn’t had one on the Surface before, Miss Hardbroom,” Mildred explained meekly, “Morgyn’s just a bit…”

“Overwhelmed,” supplied Esme, her arms wrapped tight around her friend’s trembling back.

Hecate closed her eyes for a moment and drew breath, before shaking her head slightly.

“If your sister consumes too many sweets and is sick today, Mildred Hubble, _you_ will be cleaning up and tending to her,” said Miss Hardbroom emphatically, and with a sigh she left them to it, closing the door behind her.

The other girls giggled quietly in disbelief and Morgyn half-laughed, half-sobbed into Esme’s nightdress as Enid muttered cheekily about ‘blatant favouritism’.

A few hours later, Morgyn was sitting absentmindedly at the staff table for breakfast, gazing into the distance with a slightly goofy smile on her face.

“Hubble,” said Miss Drill, squeezing her shoulder and gazing at the girl concernedly, “are you feeling okay?”

Morgyn nodded placidly, smiling at Miss Drill vaguely.

“Are you sure, dear?” pressed Miss Cackle, leaning on the table, frowning slightly.

“She’s been up and about since dawn for once,” drawled Hecate’s voice, “she’s probably in shock,” she added glibly, appearing from the air.

Morgyn turned her head slowly and smiled dazedly up at her tutor. Hecate’s eyes met hers and then she leaned down.

“Many happy returns, Morgyn Hubble,” she added gently.

“Thank you,” responded Morgyn quietly, smiling shyly.

“Oh, Hubble!” cried Miss Drill delightedly, “Why didn’t you say? Happy birthday!”

“How lovely,” remarked Miss Cackle, clapping her hands together, “happy birthday, dear!”

Morgyn smiled at them all timidly, feeling a bubbling, unplaceable feeling in her chest.

~

That afternoon, Morgyn was kneeling in the library stacks, her long and arduous task of sorting the school archives without magic nearly completed. She was humming a little to herself and her familiar wound himself around her curiously, unable to detect where this newfound enthusiasm for her task had come from.

“Morgyn Hubble,” said a voice sharply from behind her.

Morgyn jumped guiltily and turned to see her tutor looking down at her in amusement.

“You are grime-covered _again_ ,” Hecate added, raising an eyebrow.

“Occupational hazard,” said Morgyn, getting to her feet and trying to dust herself down.

“Hmm,” said Hecate sceptically.

“Do you need me for something?” asked Morgyn, looking up at her again expectantly.

“No,” said Hecate hesitantly, “as a matter of fact, I have something for you,” she added, summoning up a brown paper parcel and handing it to her apprentice.

Morgyn took it earnestly, her hands trembling a little.

“It was once mine,” Hecate added, as she watched Morgyn open the parcel and gently pull out the thick, charcoal grey, felt travelling cloak with a little gasp, “but I suspect it is now more your size than mine.”

Morgyn gulped and tried to speak, but found that her eyes were filling up again and her throat was tight.

“It’s perfect,” she eventually managed to choke, ducking her head to one side to brush away the tears that were streaming down her face, clutching the cloak to her chest protectively.

“I won’t pretend to understand what’s going on in your head - today or any other day, for that matter,” remarked Hecate mildly, sighing a little, “but if your sister has any more festivities planned for you, specifically those likely to keep you in such an emotional state, I suggest you might need to take yourself up to bed for a lie down first,” she deduced.

“It’s not that,” snuffled Morgyn, laughing slightly even as tears still fell. “I just…”

“Morgyn?”

“I can’t-”

“Cope?” Hecate murmured softly, viewing her apprentice with her head on one side.

Morgyn whimpered, nodding her head and biting her fingertips distractedly.

“What is it, menace?” Hecate asked.

Morgyn looked up and tried to gulp away her tears.

“You know, I never thought I’d make it out of the Underworld, and somehow I had to convince myself I was going to be okay with that,” she breathed, “and now I’m here, and it turns out people are so… _much._ So much _better_ , so much _kinder,_ and in every way so much _more_ than I could ever have imagined,” she said, trying vainly to wipe her tears away.

Hecate summoned a handkerchief and handed it to her soundlessly.

“They’re just _so much more_ ,” cried Morgyn softly, hyperventilating a little. 

“I can see how that would be… overwhelming,” Hecate responded.

Morgyn tried to scrub her tears away and school herself, but found her hands were shaking. She was utterly relieved when Hecate closed the gap between them and wrapped her arms around her soothingly, holding her head to her chest so that she could hear her tutor’s calm breathing, the ticking of her watch and the steady, soft, beating of her heart as her fingers gently soothed the back of Morgyn’s head and neck.

Morgyn closed her eyes and focused on the sounds and sensations and her whimpering soon subsided. She lost herself in the shelter of Hecate’s arms and calm shushing for as long as it took for her own breathing to harmonise with the tall witch’s.

When she felt rebalanced and calmed, and the headache that had been threatening subsided, Morgyn wriggled her free arm out from Hecate’s chest and wrapped it around Hecate’s waist and squeezed her gently.

“Thank you,” mumbled Morgyn into Hecate’s shoulder, “for your present and for everything else.”

“Now,” said Hecate calmly, unwrapping her arms and stepping back to rest her hands on Morgyn’s shoulders, “go upstairs, change out of those clothes - and keep in mind what I said about taking a lie down,” instructed Hecate.

“I am excusing you from lessons today, as it happens,” she continued.

Morgyn looked up at her in surprise.

“I hasten to add that this is, principally,” Hecate added, rolling her eyes heavenwards for a second, “so that I do not have to be present for, supervise or remedy whatever your sister and Esmerelda Hallow might have planned for you,” she added, smoothing a hand over Morgyn’s messy hair attentively.

Morgyn laughed softly, hugging the cloak to her chest happily.


	41. Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgyn spent the greater part of that summer in the Archives, updating as best she could the texts on The Underworld and studying under Hector’s gentle direction.

_Morgyn spent the greater part of that summer in the Archives, updating as best she could the texts on The Underworld and studying under Hector’s gentle direction._

In her spare time, she and Roman, and often Esme, enjoyed the city together and their friendship grew strong and splendid. They were creators – all three: Roman was an historian and aspiring potioneer, scribbling little dramas about long dead sorcerers in long letters to his two friends every week and regaling them with tales of accidentally filling his Uncle’s kitchen with foul-smelling purple fog; Esme was a brilliant scientist and patient educator – humbly noting that her new essay on the properties of Founding Stones had been accepted by the Witching Times while giving Roman advice on removing toad’s liver from the kitchen ceiling; and Morgyn was an inventor and a dreamer, sending complicated diagrams to illustrate how she would improve the cityscape to be more magic-friendly and including how this would look if dragons weren’t banned.

Morgyn commuted between home and the Council once a week, swooping on her skyboard and feeling the reassuring white-ish gold tug of Hecate’s protection spells emanating from a charm around her neck.

Hecate was being remarkably good about everything, Morgyn thought to herself as she swooped through the late August air one Friday evening. She’d let Morgyn off with _no holiday homework_. She was permitting Morgyn to stay at home with her mother between, even though it meant running the risk of a major Hubble sister-mishap. She was _even_ prepared to let Morgyn start back several weeks late at school so that she could assist the Council archivists more.

Of course, there were rules. This was Hecate, after all. Her commute was set, and she was expressly forbidden to deviate from it. It took her, first thing on a Monday morning and late on a Friday afternoon, from her mother’s home in the city, over the hilltop where Cackle’s Academy and Hecate were, and in a straight line to the Council and back. If Morgyn tried to stray from this route, Hecate had promised to summon her back to Cackle’s immediately and ground her until she attained maturity.

In all honesty, Morgyn was quite enjoying feeling useful to the Archives and she had no intention of upsetting Hecate by going off radar on a jaunt. But, true to teenagers everywhere, she had rolled her eyes and sighed and pretended to only agree grudgingly - right up until Hecate had given her the infamous Hardbroom stare of displeasure and Morgyn had actually squirmed and rushed over to the witch’s side to appeasingly assure Hecate _profusely_ that she was only joking and to beg her to let her go on summer placement after all.

Every Friday lunchtime, after staying in one of the Council’s guest rooms under the supervision of a stalwart housekeeper hell-bent on making sure Morgyn ate her greens and washed behind her ears, Morgyn jumped on her skyboard and raced to Cackle’s. It didn’t matter how fast she went or what time she arrived, Hecate always appeared at the front door, her arms folded, fingers drumming, as if Morgyn had kept her waiting.

Morgyn would grin and flap excitedly around her exasperated tutor like a friendly bat, before jumping off - or being plucked down to the safety of the earth by Hecate - and generally aiming to fill the quiet castle with as much noise and hilarity as possible as she recounted her work to her tutor and Miss Cackle over afternoon tea.

Morgyn never questioned why it was just the two of them in the holidays, and they never felt the need to explain.

At five thirty, Morgyn would be back on her skyboard, her pockets stuffed with snacks Miss Cackle had snuck her when Hecate was feigning obliviousness, waving at them both, and setting off home for a weekend of sibling shenanigans, driving Julie round the bend with her rebellious, un-Hecate-scrutinised mess and exploring the normal world under Mildred’s conscientious guidance.

She missed the routine of this when term started because, as everyone had pointed out, she would be better to mirror them with updates than fly all the way back and try to catch them when they weren’t _busy._

 _Busy_ , Morgyn took to mean as Hecate’s code for _“dealing with repeated and increasingly absurd underage misuses of magic, usually and specifically the kind your wretched younger sister and her mischievous friends instigate at all outrageous hours of the day and night in defiance of the Witches’ Code and natural laws of physics”_ , Miss Cackle’s code for _“running a successful witching academy whilst making sure Hecate doesn’t expel too many promising witches”_ and Julie’s code for _“working lates.”_

Morgyn agreed to their suggestions a little too loudly, telling them all how sensible it was, and had felt rushing, reassuring relief when Hecate had taken one look at the forlorn expression on her face and hooked a finger under her chin to assure her, in a sub-zero tone, that this did not mean, by any stretch of the imagination, that she _wouldn’t_ be keeping a close eye on her apprentice and expecting her to check in morning and night as usual.


	42. October (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgyn landed on the stone bridge in front of Cackle’s and gazed up at the turrets of the gatehouse contentedly.  
> SERIES 3 SPOILER ALERT

_Morgyn landed on the stone bridge in front of Cackle’s and gazed up at the turrets of the gatehouse contentedly._

It made her pine to think that Esme had advanced and left school for college, but this place was deeply and wonderfully home to her nonetheless. This was Hecate’s home, as far as Morgyn knew, and she felt now that she’d always want to come back here and run quirky rings around the loveably formidable witch.

Morgyn sucked her bottom lip, realising with a pang for the first time that Hecate wasn’t waiting impatiently for her by the entrance. Morgyn unhooked her suitcase from her skyboard and carried it through the open gates and across the gardens to the main school, her board floating obediently next to her. She took the front stairs two at a time and leaned her weight on the heavy front doors to open them.

Inside, there had obviously been shenanigans occurring very recently, as a tall, beautiful witch in a sparkling outfit, whom Morgyn took immediately to be Enid Nightshade’s famous mother, was thanking Miss Cackle profusely for something while an entire crew of production wizards and witches, makeup artists, camera people and audience members were milling around enjoying the lingering vibes.

“Not at all, Mistress Nightshade, it was our pleasure,” said Miss Cackle and Morgyn bit her lip to hide a smile, observing what no one else could see: the headmistress subtly pressing a hand into the small of Hecate’s back as she said this, physically _willing_ her Deputy not to publicly argue with this particular statement.

“Take care, Enid,” Mistress Nightshade said to her daughter, who had appeared and tucked herself under her mother’s arm, “and be good.”

“I will, Mum,” replied Enid, her eyes shining, and then she glanced up.

 _“MORGYN!”_ Enid screamed ecstatically, disentangling herself from her mother and throwing herself on the home-comer.

Morgyn grinned bashfully and hugged Enid back with her free arm.

 _“MORGYN!”_ shrieked more voices, and Morgyn soon fell down to the ground laughing when Mildred, Maud, Sybil and Beatrice all rushed to jump on her and create a big, happy mess of witchy pals on the entrance hall floor.

Gasping for breath and trying to answer as many of their enthusiastic questions as she could, Morgyn sat up a few moments later, giggling and giving them all individual hugs. She looked up and saw Hecate, Miss Cackle and Miss Drill looking back at her with varying levels of amusement.

“Well met,” said Morgyn, dipping her head with a grin.

Mildred chose that moment to fling herself around Morgyn’s neck again with a delighted squeal and the sisters proceeded to scrimmage inelegantly.

“Well met, Morgyn, and welcome home,” called Miss Cackle, deeply amused.

“Well met, Hubble,” said Miss Drill, all smiles, “all right, Beatrice, Sybil, that’s _enough_.”

“I think that is _more_ than enough from _everyone_ ,” remarked Hecate, horrified.

Morgyn caught sight of the familiar raised eyebrow expression on her guardian’s face from where she was being affectionately squashed by Mildred. Morgyn sat up, pushing Mildred from her ribs to her lap, and took her sister’s face in her hands and kissed her forehead.

“ _By the Code_ , I’ve missed you,” she grinned, sitting cross legged with her younger sister straddling her lap inelegantly. “I want to hear what’s been going on while I’ve been gone, you’ve not told me _anything_ ,” she said, intending for her words to be mock accusing, hugging Mildred close.

The bated silence that followed, while Mildred glanced at Miss Cackle and Miss Hardbroom warily, told Morgyn that this was exactly the wrong thing to have said. She released her sister slightly and cocked her head to one side as she looked at all the overcast faces.

“My office, I think,” said Miss Cackle, her momentary warmth waning.

~

“Let me get this straight,” said Morgyn, rooted to the spot, her skyboard still floating alongside her, “while I was gone, Hubble Sr. got a job here, Hubble Jr. found a way to give her magic, Sr. went bride-of-Dracula, imprisoned you and Hecate in a clay prison, then Great-great-what’s-it Hubble found a way to cure her, but because she’d been so loco, Sr. had to give up her newfound magic, and – as if _that_ wasn’t all bloody weird enough – some girl who’s been a statue for thirty years keeps crashing down chimneys and Jr.’s insisting she should be allowed to take responsibility for her and… and you’re actually going to _let_ her?” Morgyn summarised, gobsmacked.

“Consider your language, Morgyn, but, yes, that’s about the sum of it,” said Miss Cackle, taking off her glasses.

Morgyn turned to her sister, frowning.

“And you didn’t think to tell me _any_ of this?” she demanded.

“There wasn’t time,” said Mildred.

“Oh,” said Morgyn, looking down, her cheeks flushing. “In the whole month of our mother working here _and becoming a witch_ , neither of you had a _moment_ to mention it to me?”

“It wasn’t like that… and what would you have thought anyway?” said Mildred hotly.

“I’d have thought it was a bloody stupid idea to begin with, which exactly what I _still_ think-” said Morgyn heatedly, her teeth gritted.

“Morgyn,” interjected Miss Cackle warningly.

“You just don’t want Mum to be part of our world,” retorted Mildred.

“She _is_ part of our world, but that doesn’t mean you should drown her in a surrounding full of things she can’t ever have,” snapped Morgyn.

“Yeah, well, she loved being magic,” said Mildred, tears running down her face.

“Who wouldn’t?” said Morgyn, snapping her fingers to vanish her skyboard and crossing the room to clutch Mildred by the shoulders. “Point to one human on this infernal planet who wouldn’t? _But we do not play at gods_ ,” she breathed in horror, shaking Mildred. “What if you accidentally turned the _wrong_ person?”

“What if I deliberately turned the _right_ one?” yelled Mildred.

“Almighty Hades _,_ ” groaned Morgyn exasperatedly, pulling her sister in so that their foreheads met.

“I should have told you,” sniffled Mildred after a moment.

“And what about this other… witch?” asked Morgyn warily, stroking Mildred’s ears with her thumbs. “Hasn’t she turned into a monomaniac for devastation too?”

“Not recently,” said Miss Cackle sombrely, putting her glasses back on.

“Indigo has no one else,” said Mildred, pulling away from her sister’s forehead. “I’m going to help her, and there’s nothing you can say to persuade me otherwise.”

“Mildred’s own behaviour will be monitored, along with Miss Moon’s,” said Miss Cackle.

“I see,” said Morgyn, frowning down at her sister. “Well _,_ sounds like you’ve been a bloody sight busier than me,” she said, stepping back from her sister and trying to hide how hurt she was.

“ _Morgyn!_ ” scolded Miss Cackle again.

“I’m going to unpack,” Morgyn stated coolly, turning on her heel and dissolving outside the door before her emotions could run away completely.

~

“You didn’t tell me,” said Morgyn reproachfully, pulling off her hat slowly as she walked into her own, familiar room a few minutes later - the quiet heels now clicking on the floor behind her indicating that she had been correct in thinking that a particular magical presence had been following her.

“No,” acknowledged Hecate quietly. “I did not want you to have any distraction while on placement.”

“You don’t have to lie to me too, Hecate,” sighed Morgyn, throwing her suitcase on the bed unashamedly, “I’ve known from the start you disapprove of Julie in almost every way.”

“I-” faltered Hecate.

“And you are matchless to me, all the same,” said Morgyn simply, sitting down on her bed and pulling off her cloak and scarf.

“I thought it was a terrible idea,” admitted Hecate quietly after a pause, “but the fact that I’ve turned out to be correct in such a monumental way is of absolutely no comfort to either you or me.”

“It was just the two of them for so long,” said Morgyn broodingly, her face looking weary, “I don’t know why I’m still surprised they didn’t think to tell me, they’ll always have something between them that I can’t share.”

“They both care for you - a _great_ deal,” said Hecate quietly.

“Well,” said Morgyn, getting up and crossing to open her bedroom window and air the room, “if that’s true, they have a bloody funny way of showing it.”

“You ought to mirror your mother to let her know you’ve arrived safely,” said Hecate, rubbing her fingers and thumbs together by her sides.

“Why?” snorted Morgyn, “she lied _every time_ _I called_. How could I _be_ so stupid?” she murmured to herself, unbuttoning her thick woollen jumper and letting it drop to the floor.

“You will call her,” said Hecate, both knowingly and commandingly, stooping to pick up the jumper and place it on the end of Morgyn’s bed.

“Fine,” said Morgyn, taking off her heavy, lace-up travelling boots and chucking them on the floor. “But not now, I’m too angry.”

“Very well,” said Hecate, “first thing tomorrow,” she added unbendingly, waving a hand to send Morgyn’s boots to their place in the wardrobe. “Morgyn?” she coaxed, on hearing no reply.

“Hmm?”

“Say it.”

“Yes,” said Morgyn, turning her back on Hecate.

“Correctly _and_ precisely,” cautioned Hecate, appearing directly in front of Morgyn.

“I’ll call her tomorrow, first thing,” said Morgyn, folding her arms tightly and doing her best not to look at Hecate.

Hecate’s fingers hooked under her chin, guiding her gaze up.

“I promise,” sighed Morgyn defeatedly, seeing the peevishly raised eyebrows of her tutor.

Hecate’s expression relaxed.

“But, hey,” said Morgyn, after a pause, “on the _plus_ side, I’ve had three months in Camelot and Roman, Es and me got some _sweet_ matching tattoos,” said Morgyn, grinning as she watched Hecate’s eyes go wide.

“Jokes! Jokes!” laughed Morgyn, holding her hands up defensively.


	43. October (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Morgyn swotted away in Hecate’s office in the evenings over the coming weeks to catch up on the work she’d missed, she couldn’t help but notice how frequently Indigo Moon and her sister were called or sent in to be reprimanded by their Year Head.

While Morgyn swotted away in Hecate’s office in the evenings over the coming weeks to catch up on the work she’d missed, she couldn’t help but notice how frequently Indigo Moon and her sister were called or sent in to be reprimanded by their Year Head.

Morgyn watched as Hecate would instantly stop being the Hecate she had grown to know and became firm, forbidding Miss Hardbroom, full of fury and severity. But there was something else Morgyn noticed. Hecate was under a newfound strain, and Morgyn didn’t know why. To be sure, Indigo exploded potions, mispronounced incantations and generally caused havoc with the curriculum, but Morgyn knew Hecate had been teaching for years – heaps of years, now she came to think about it – and had, by all accounts, made great witches out of stacks of assorted nitwits and ninnies.

She knew better than to interrupt Hecate when she was scolding anyone – let along Indigo or Mildred – and she sat with her head bent, gripping her pen tightly on more than one occasion, frowning in perplexion at her study books.

_There is something the matter with Hecate, Morgyn thought, her heartstrings tugging in true Hubble fashion, there is something the matter with Hecate and she hasn’t told me about it._

Morgyn spent a lot of time on her own in those weeks, working quietly in the garden or the library, pondering what could be troubling her tutor. She desperately missed having tea with her and Miss Cackle regularly, missed Julie’s loving presence all the more for it, and found herself missing Mildred too, because her sister was spending so much time with Indigo Moon.

Morgyn was sitting in her and Esme’s old den on the roof one day in her third week back when Sybil Hallow appeared.

“Millie and Indigo are in trouble again,” she sighed, sitting down next to Morgyn, “Enid’s in detention and Maud’s shut herself in her room to have a cry because she’s so stressed. And I’m failing Potions.”

“Hmm,” said Morgyn, taking the girl under her arm and letting her huddle in for a friendly hug.

“You don’t seem like yourself either, what’s up?” said Sybil.

“I guess I’m a bit homesick,” said Morgyn, “if homesickness applies to people, that is.”

“I know what you mean,” said Sybil sincerely. “Couldn’t you ask HB for leave to go and see your mum?”

“Hmm? Oh, I daren’t risk it,” said Morgyn.

“You think she’d say no?” asked Sybil sympathetically.

“I know she’d say yes,” said Morgyn, “and that would be far worse. I’m not sure how to cope with my family just right now.”

“Oh,” said Sybil sadly. “You’re getting on quite well with HB these days though, aren’t you?”

“I think we’ve come to an understanding,” snorted Morgyn.

“You mean, if she doesn’t ask you too many questions, you won’t have to tell her too many lies?” giggled Sybil.

“Something like that,” smiled Morgyn.

“What do _you_ think of Indigo Moon?” asked Sybil.

“I think I’m a little jealous of her,” sighed Morgyn.

“What?”

“Well, have you ever known Mildred to have bad taste in people? She’s got a heart of gold and a personality radar to rival a unicorn, and more than that – she _chooses_ to support Indigo,” said Morgyn.

“I suppose you’re right,” said Sybil.

“It’s hard, when new people come along,” said Morgyn, “especially since Mildred will give her heart and soul to them.”

“Unlike you,” said Sybil, pointedly.

“That was just the once,” said Morgyn, nudging her young friend.

“If you’re right about Mildred, maybe you could try forgiving Indigo for needing her too?” said Sybil.

“I could think about it,” admitted Morgyn.

“And Esme misses you too, by the way,” said Sybil, rising and brushing down her uniform. “You should call her, you’re both working too hard.”

Morgyn smiled and nodded, glad for the company of her best friend’s little sister.


	44. November, again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgyn truly hadn’t realised how late it had gotten during her now-daily mirror call to Esme.

_Morgyn truly hadn’t realised how late it had gotten during her now-daily mirror call to Esme._

It was so good to be able to talk to someone who’s world didn’t start and end with a school bell and a book of rules thicker than an oligarch’s wallet and it had become her routine, in the past few weeks, to call Roman first and then Esme in the evenings.

“And, of course, I’m going to the theatre this weekend,” said Esme comically, alluding to her job as a cinema attendant.

“Of course,” replied Morgyn, “and what will you be seeing this time? A little Pinter? A classic by The Bard?”

“More like happy hour for the mothers of small children,” groaned Esme, “you wouldn’t _believe_ how many of them spew!”

“The mothers or the small children?” asked Morgyn, to which Esme snorted and let out a peel of laughter.

“ _Fascinating_ though the details of Esmeralda’s social life may be to you,” said a voice crisply in Morgyn’s ear, “you gave me your word you’d be in bed over an hour ago.”

Hecate appeared, looking more than a little cross in her long, black, dressing gown, as Morgyn shuddered at the breath on her ear and neck and then checked her watch quickly in surprise.

“Sorry,” Morgyn said meekly. “Gotta go, Es, love ya!”

“Well met, Miss Hardbroom. Laters, Morg!” called Esme, tactfully waving a hand to end the call.

“Is this becoming a habit?” queried Hecate, straightening up and looking down at her charge wearily.

“She’s still the dearest friend I’ve ever had,” said Morgyn matter-of-factly, reaching up to untie her hair from the single, mid length braid that it was currently held up in.

“Thank you, I was completely unaware,” replied Hecate dryly, “and you didn’t answer the question.”

“Was I being too loud?” asked Morgyn. “I could cast a muffling spell?”

“You could also spend the next three weeks in nightly detention,” responded Hecate coolly.

“What is it?” asked Morgyn, turning to look up at Hecate, frowning a little.

“Possibly a noun or indeed a pronoun used in common text and speech?” quipped Hecate dryly.

“Okay, so I’m not in bed, and that’s what - at worst - moderately inconvenient? Because _I’m_ a previously undead apprentice and _you’re_ Hecate Hardbroom - we don’t let these things phase us. But, _really,_ what is it?” demanded Morgyn reproachfully.

“Morgyn Hubble,” said Hecate wearily, waving a hand to speed the process of Morgyn’s bedtime routine in an instant, “I am far too tired to become especially cross with you at present.”

“Then don’t!” beseeched Morgyn earnestly, as Hecate plucked her upwards by the elbow and towed her to her bed. “Just-”

“Into bed, go to sleep, and learn when it is better _not_ to push your luck,” replied Hecate firmly, waving a hand to extinguish the light.

~

_Morgyn was much more careful, from then on, when she called Esme or Roman._

It irked her that, despite the progress she was making, Hecate still seemed to see her as a little girl in need of minding. She wanted to show her tutor that this wasn’t the case – that she was stronger and brighter now than she’d ever been.

An idea hatched in Morgyn’s mind, and she tentatively sounded it out with Roman one afternoon when she was mirroring him.

“I need a way to let her see that I’m not so delicate as she thinks I am,” Morgyn explained.

“You do live in a boarding school,” pointed out Roman, polishing a set of binoculars in his own small library, glancing at Morgyn through the glass. “It’s probably practical for Hecate to know that you’re in bed of an evening.”

“Yes, but she needn’t _baby_ me so,” Morgyn argued. “I’m not like the others.”

“I know,” said Roman, smiling gently. “Just _promise_ you won’t summon any dragons.”

“Roman!”

“Well, it would be just like you!” Roman joked.

“I was thinking more along the lines of … some community display,” said Morgyn thoughtfully.

“Like a contest, or a competition?” asked Roman nervously.

“If Hecate would _only_ let me do archery, I could show her _and_ everyone else.”

“If what Esme’s told me is true,” smiled Roman, “you would be utterly mad to cross Hecate on such a direct decree.”

“I know. That’s why I need something else, something that’s unique but also… me-ish.”

“Like inventing?” suggested Roman.

“Exactly like inventing!”

“How about getting Hecate to enter a Crafter’s Fayre with you?”

“Remind me, again, what that entails?” asked Morgyn.

“The two of you would enter together, as a team, and you would demonstrate an invention for the judges. There are prizes in all sorts of categories usually.”

“What if I wanted it to be a surprise for Hecate?”

“You’d probably have to get your mum to enter with you,” shrugged Roman.

“Couldn’t _we_ enter as a team?” asked Morgyn, thinking that it was unlikely Julie would keep the particular details of this scheme from Hecate or Miss Cackle.

“We could,” said Roman, smiling a little, “but I don’t see what help I could be to you – I’m not allowed out of Camelot without an escort and you’d still need an adult to sign you up.”

“I’ll work on that,” said Morgyn, her mind already whirring. “But do you _want_ to enter with me? You can say no, I’d understand.”

“Of course, I want to!”

“Brilliant.”


	45. December,

_The students of Cackle's Academy were filing neatly into the school hall for assembly._

“Hey, Es, you’ll never guess what!” said Morgyn, as she hurriedly pulled the cupboard door closed behind herself, obscuring her from the prying eyes of the other girls. “Roman and I have submitted a new invention in the Crafters Quarterly Competition!”

“That’s great,” said Esme, but her face said otherwise.

“What is it, is something wrong?”

“I thought that competition was only for Senior Witches?” said Esme dubiously. “Don’t you need an adult to enter with you and be your sponsor?”

“Well, _yes,_ technically,” said Morgyn, waving aside the detail. “But, listen, I’ve got a great idea for my display-”

“If it doesn’t involve the express permission of your mistress and minder, Morg, it isn’t going to work,” said Esme flatly.

“You haven’t heard- Wait, what now?” said Morgyn suspiciously.

“You heard me,” said Esme flatly.

“Esme!” gaped Morgyn. “She’s _not_ -!”

“Who gets you out of bed?” asked Esme, holding up a finger.

“That’s not-”

“Who makes sure you’re eating three meals, aren’t drinking caffeine by the gallon or inducing your very own sugar coma?” Esme continued, holding up another finger.

“Well-!”

“Who shoos you to bed on schedule and takes it as a personal insult if you’ve not ironed everything in your wardrobe?” Esme asked, smirking, raising a third finger.

“I-” Morgyn stammered.

“And who watches over you like a medic when you’re a poorly marshmallow?” queried Esme, counting that too.

“But-”

“ _Who followed you to the Underworld, saved your life and now teaches you the craft like no one else could?_ ” asked Esme loudly over Morgyn’s gibbering, waving the hand of reasons that she had listed at Morgyn.

 _“Esme!”_ gasped Morgyn, blushing furiously.

“And who is currently looking daggers at _me_ because _you_ are hidden in a broom cupboard telling _me_ all of this, instead of with her and wherever you’re meant to be?” asked Esme, wincing a little, as Hecate reached down over Morgyn’s shoulder and closed the pocket mirror with a click.

“Umm,” Morgyn began, “whatever you heard, it wasn’t what you think,” she babbled as Hecate’s hands caught her under her arms and pulled her to her feet and guided her out into the light of the hallway.

“I seem to recall asking this on your first day here,” remarked Hecate with a sigh, frowning and brushing Morgyn’s clothes down firmly with her hands to dispel some of the dust which invariably clung to the girl, “but _how,_ precisely, is it that you would you know what _I_ think?

Morgyn breathed a sigh of relief, feeling intuitively that Hecate would have a lot more to say on the subject if she’d had the slightest idea of why Esme was talking about her, and let herself be fussed for the state of her clothes and scolded for not being in assembly without further argument.

~

_Morgyn paced about her room the next day._

Hecate, in response to her attempt to slack-off from school assembly, had confiscated her personal magic mirror for the rest of the week – and the queue for the school booth was as long and slow as it always was.

Knowing that Hecate was in a meeting with Miss Cackle and someone from the Council Education Department, Morgyn crawled carefully under her bed and extracted one of the old, threadbare books that she had ‘liberated’ from the library last term.

It was a text on the art of astral projection – which Morgyn had been reading as a side-line to all her schoolwork. Setting a few non-disturbance spells on her room, Morgyn opened the book to the page she had last been studying and set up her room appropriately: moving furniture, chalking out symbols and positioning candles – more for the aesthetic of the thing than because she actually thought it would make much difference.

At first, Morgyn had struggled to find her way through the fog – despite the book’s directions – and it was only in recent weeks that she had been able to make headway with locating specific places. She lay down, relaxed herself, and concentrated deeply. Then, when she was barely breathing, she felt her mind jumping far across the land:

“Well met, Miss Hubble!” remarked Hector Penchant in surprise, glancing up from his type writer and noticing her smoky apparition. “Only this morning I was hearing all about your entry for the Crafters Quarterly from Roman. I must say, I am impressed with what you young things come up with!”

“Well met, and thank you, Hector. Thing is, I really need a favour,” Morgyn said, looking at the Archivist nervously.

“And that favour would explain why you are astral projecting yourself into my office?” remarked Hector mildly.

“I didn’t want to be interrupted,” winced Morgyn.

“Hmm,” replied Hector, choosing not to ask _by whom_. “Well, I am honour-bound to say that the rules of the competition are set in stone and that I have no influence on the judges.”

“I know, and it’s nothing like that,” said Morgyn, struggling to concentrate, “I was wondering: what would it take to have the opening of the competition moved from Walwort’s Wizarding Academy to here, at Cackle’s?”

“You raise an interesting point, and I’ve no doubt you have your reasons,” answered Hector, stroking his beard. “You did the community a great service in the Archives this summer, and I can’t say that Egbert gave you anything in return. Leave this with me, and get back to yourself, you look as though you’re about to drop. I’ll give you my answer by the end of the week.”

Morgyn breathed a sigh of relief and opened her eyes in the light of her bedroom at Cackle’s Academy, surrounded by a ring of candles, to be interrupted by Miss Drill storming into the room seconds later to ask what the burning smell was.

Luckily for Morgyn, Miss Drill wasn’t well-versed in astral projection and could be convinced to promise not to tell Hecate that Morgyn had been playing with naked flame to try and make her room smell less like mould.

Luckily for Miss Drill, Morgyn had cleaned away all trace of her activities by the time Hecate had finished in the important meeting and come to check why she’d felt suspiciously high levels of magic radiating from Morgyn’s room.

Luckily for Hecate, she didn’t believe for a moment that Morgyn hadn’t been up to no good and set her extra hard schoolwork to keep her in the library and out of trouble for the rest of the week.


	46. January

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgyn was pacing up and down on the battlements outside her and Esme’s old den.

_Morgyn was pacing up and down on the battlements outside her and Esme’s old den._

At the same time, she was deep in conversation with Roman, using the travel mirror Esme had given her. The specifications for their new invention were giving her a headache, and she had come up into the fresh air to clear her head while Roman talked about his latest archery practise as a soothing diversion for them both.

“You’re getting all worked up over nothing,” Roman said kindly, noting the frown lines still present on Morgyn’s forehead.

“I’ve never hidden anything like this for so long from Hecate before, Roman,” sighed Morgyn, “or Julie. I’m living life on tender hooks that someone will come in and discover my invention every day! I just really want it to be a surprise for them – I want to show them something good for a change.”

“You do lots of good, Morg, I just wish you could see what Esme and I do! But if it’s worrying you, we don’t _need_ to do this – you have nothing to prove.”

“I do, though, Ro! I do! You should have _heard_ Hecate this morning when she read my latest essay back to me. I thought she was going to eat me alive!”

“You have been a bit distracted – this competition doesn’t need to take up all your time, Morg, you still need to study. And sleep! Esme’s getting worried about you. So am I, come to that.”

“I’ll sleep when the Fayre is over,” snorted Morgyn immovably.

“I was giving some thought to what you said the other night,” said Roman, changing the subject, “and I think I shall write to Hector in the morning and ask him if he’ll drop by to ask my uncle in person if it's alright that he be my official escort.”

“Brilliant – I’m sure he’ll agree,” smiled Morgyn, her mood lifting immediately.

“Now I just need to convince my uncle to sign my form,” Roman added, rolling his eyes. “Where have you got on that score?” he asked.

“Oh, I’m working on it,” replied Morgyn vaguely. “Listen, I’ve got to go, but we’ll speak again soon!”

“Alright,” agreed Roman, a little dubiously.”


	47. February (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgyn was skipping, actually skipping, along a path in the herb garden of Cackle’s Academy.

_Morgyn was skipping, actually skipping, along a path in the herb garden of Cackle’s Academy._

The ground was crisp and frosty beneath her feet and she was wrapped up well against the cold. She had finally perfected her and Roman’s invention the evening before and it was as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. As she turned towards the castle to seek out a cup of warming tea, Hecate flickered into existence in front of her.

Morgyn couldn’t exactly describe the expression on her guardian’s face. It was chilling, in a way that even the midwinter weather could not achieve, as well as holding all the fury and heat of an approaching storm.

“Hecate?” Morgyn said worriedly.

“How _dare_ you?” Hecate uttered, her teeth gritted.

“What?” Morgyn asked, her apprehension rising.

“ _How dare you!”_ Hecate repeated, holding up a piece of parchment.

It was then that Morgyn realised what it was. She saw, with painful recognition, her own handwriting scrawled across the competition entry form. Worse, she saw at the foot of the page the place where she had forged Julie’s signature – giving her and Roman her false permission to enter the Fayre under her guidance.

“I-I-” stammered Morgyn, unable to find the words.

Hecate’s hand curled upwards furiously and Morgyn felt herself thrown through a particularly forceful transference. Morgyn fell onto the floor of her own room a moment later and bounded up to try and open her bedroom door - to seek out Hecate and explain – but found that the door was resolutely sealed, and her ability to dissolve curtailed by her absent tutor.

“Hecate!” wailed Morgyn desolately, sinking down the door and crying into her knees.

~

_By dinnertime that evening, Morgyn was still locked in her bedroom._

A quiet knock and the sound of the magical lock clicked and Morgyn looked up hopefully from where she and Tomaso were curled up in a ball by the window. It was Miss Cackle.

“Well met, Morgyn,” sighed Miss Cackle, placing a tray of warm food on Morgyn’s desk and sitting down on her bed, patting the blanket next to her for Morgyn to join her.

“Miss Cackle, I didn’t mean-” Morgyn began to wail.

“Now, now, Morgyn,” said Miss Cackle schoolingly, “you clearly _did_ intend to do what you did.”

“I never wanted it to happen like this,” cried Morgyn, placing her face in her hands.

“You mean, you just didn’t intend to be caught?” asked Miss Cackle.

“If I tell you, do you promise you won’t laugh?” said Morgyn dolefully, looking up at the kindly woman.

“Very well,” conceded Miss Cackle, rubbing circles on Morgyn’s back to calm her.

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Morgyn mumbled.

“Well, yes, it’s certainly has had that effect,” remarked Miss Cackle.

“I mean, I wanted it to be a _good_ surprise – for Hecate,” Morgyn explained.

“Morgyn, dear, why didn’t you come to me?” asked Miss Cackle exasperatedly.

“I thought you wouldn’t want me to hide the truth from Hecate,” Morgyn admitted.

“We can agree on that much, at least,” said Miss Cackle, shaking her head. “Honestly, Morgyn, what possessed you to think that _this_ would be a good idea?”

“I’m not- I’m not good at being babied, Miss Cackle,” said Morgyn, feeling that her argument was inadequate as she was currently being soothed like a distraught child.

“Perhaps that is just as well,” replied Miss Cackle sadly, “because you’re to join the fourth years in their timetable from tomorrow morning, and you will no longer be attending one-to-one lessons or be receiving any special treatment from the staff.”

“Miss Cackle!” cried Morgyn in alarm.

“Forging another witch’s signature, Morgyn – this is something the witchworld take _very_ seriously,” counselled Miss Cackle.

“What about Hecate?” asked Morgyn, her voice breaking.

“You will see Miss Hardbroom in her capacity as the Deputy Headmistress and your potions mistress,” said Miss Cackle bracingly. “Now, you will eat here and stay in your room without company tonight, and tomorrow, you will be as any other student in Cackle’s Academy,” she added, waving a hand and summoning up a school uniform for Morgyn.

When Miss Cackle left, Morgyn sat rigidly on her bed for a long time before finally dissolving to the floor and sobbing inconsolably, long into the night.


	48. February (Part 2)

_Morgyn walked, zombie-like, between her classes that week._

Only speaking when asked a question, only casting spells when she was prompted to, Morgyn was listless with misery. Between classes, she was forbidden to play with the other students, and she sat, long into the nights, alone in the library – often staring vacantly into the distance at nothing particularly.

It had been twelve days since Hecate had discovered what Morgyn had done, and there was no chink in her absolute silence on any subject that was not the class curriculum. Morgyn’s chest swelled uncomfortably every time she saw her, and fresh tears were never far away.

It was two weeks to the competition, though Morgyn had given absolutely no thought to the subject or the display since that fateful day. She was summoned to Miss Cackle’s office one morning before lunch.

“Ah, Morgyn, dear, come in,” said Miss Cackle, looking up and noting that it was her who had knocked and entered.

“Miss Cackle,” Morgyn said in a flat, respectful tone, her eyes on the carpet.

“Well met, Morgyn?” said Hector Penchant’s voice enquiringly, looking at his young friend questioningly.

“Well met, sir,” replied Morgyn, bowing emotionlessly.

“Umm?” Hector said, looking at Miss Cackle for guidance.

“Morgyn,” sighed Miss Cackle, “sit down. We have to discuss this Fayre.”

Morgyn sat down, folded her hands in her lap and continued to stare vacantly at the ground.

“Now, Hector has told me that the rules of the competition are clear,” said Miss Cackle, looking at Morgyn’s bowed head thoughtfully. “Your friend, Roman, had valid authorisation from his uncle. As it turns out, witching tradition dictates that you – technically – have his authorisation by proxy to compete too.”

“Doesn’t matter anymore,” mumbled Morgyn.

“As a matter of fact, Morgyn, it does,” said Hector, leaning forward and laying a hand gently on the girl’s shoulder. “You see, unless you want to be charged for non-attendance and barred from entering a future competition, the best thing you and Roman can do is go and present your invention.”

“What?” murmured Morgyn hoarsely, looking up slowly for the first time.

“It’s true,” said Miss Cackle, shrugging.

“But I can’t-?” said Morgyn numbly.

“Why not?” asked Hector, frowning curiously. “The competition is right here, after all.”

“You’ve seen to that too, apparently,” said Miss Cackle dryly.

“But-?” Morgyn began.

“What?” asked Hector kindly.

“Hecate,” Morgyn whispered sadly.

“Yes, well I’m afraid that might be a bit of a sticking point, but this _is_ witching tradition, after all,” answered Miss Cackle, touching her forehead lightly as if she was beginning to get a headache.

“Roman tells me that you had planned your display extensively?” Hector continued, trying to reel Morgyn into more familiar ground.

“Yes,” replied Morgyn hollowly.

“Well, I suggest you call him and make arrangements.”

“Morgyn,” said Miss Cackle pointedly, seeing the girl still listless, “you have been completely underhand in this matter, let’s not let it all have been for nothing, hmm?”

Morgyn got to her feet slowly and nodded numbly.

“May I be excused, Miss Cackle?” she said blankly.

“If you would show Mr Penchant the way out?” Miss Cackle replied, waving them both away.

As Morgyn paced blankly down the hallway, Hector gathered up his hat and cloak and followed her.

“I am afraid I may have dropped you in it,” said Hector, looking down at Morgyn. “I had no idea-”

“It was all going to be a surprise,” Morgyn sniffled, rubbing the tears from her cheeks, “and now it’s all gone so terribly wrong.”

“I am sorry,” said Hector.

“It’s not your fault,” said Morgyn, “I shouldn’t have – it’s not… something good witches do.”

“Until the competition then, hmm? Good luck, Miss Hubble.”


	49. Pippa Meddles (Part 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pippa was swishing through the crowded great hall of Cackle’s Academy, talking to everyone with her light and brilliant charm: her bright young students trotting in her awesome wake like starstruck ducklings.

_Pippa was swishing through the crowded great hall of Cackle’s Academy, talking to everyone with her light and brilliant charm: her bright young students trotting in her awesome wake like starstruck ducklings._

It was the day of the Crafters Fayre at last. Morgyn was fidgeting with her shirt sleeves and neatly pleated hair nervously and looking around the hall, contemplating how strange it was to see the place so full of grown magicians. At her side, Roman talking animatedly to her from where he was fussing underneath a light blue sheet which covered their invention until the grand opening. Unable to concentrate on what he was telling her, Morgyn held up her side of the conversation by murmuring the occasional “hmm-hmm” or “uhh-huh”.

Miss Cackle was guiding the judging panel around the school with Miss Drill and the head girl, talking to them all the while about the various highlights of the school architecture and asking them pleasantries about their journey.

Morgyn couldn’t decide whether she was more desperate to go for a wee or to run out and be copiously sick. She hopped nervously from foot to foot and tried hard to smile when Pippa came swishing towards their station through the throng.

“Precious girl, you’re as nervous as a kitten,” laughed Pippa gently, as she hugged Morgyn in.

Morgyn nodded numbly and clung to Pippa’s waist.

“Where’s your big cat got to, I wonder?” mused Pippa thoughtfully, mussing Morgyn’s hair gently with her fingertips and scanning the crowded hall carefully.

“We don’t think she’s coming,” responded Roman dejectedly, appearing from under the sheet and wheeling himself out with difficultly.

Morgyn sucked her lip sadly, her eyes wet with tears, and turned her gaze pleadingly to Pippa.

“Oh, precious lamb!” cooed Pippa sympathetically, rubbing Morgyn’s back as the girl buried her face in Pippa’s collarbone and gave a few little sobs while Roman quietly related the whole, sorry tale to the best dressed witch.

~

_Pippa appeared in Hecate’s rooms a little while later without knocking: the curtains were drawn, the lights extinguished._

“Hiccup?” called Pippa uncertainly, moving towards the chair in which Hecate habitually sat.

“Well met, Pippa,” replied Hecate, her voice preoccupied and low.

Pippa frowned and paused in her step.

“I’m going to open the curtains, Hecate: if you’re feeling poorly, I want to be able to have a good look over you,” Pippa decided firmly, turning to raise a hand towards the dark drapes.

“Don’t!” exclaimed Hecate fearfully, her hand shooting upwards to keep the curtains closed.

Pippa paused again and came towards her again instead, seeing the dark-haired witch a little more in the dim light.

“What is it, sweet one?” Pippa asked softly.

“I am not -” Hecate stammered, shaking her head.

“You are not yourself, are you?” mused Pippa thoughtfully, noting for the first time the tear tracks down Hecate’s cheeks.

Noiselessly, Pippa then crossed the last stretch of floor between them and settled herself gracefully on Hecate’s lap. The dark-haired witch stuttered in surprise and took hold of Pippa’s waist delicately to stop the blonde from slipping off her knees.

“Wh-what are you doing, Pippa?” asked Hecate hesitantly.

“Well, I’d like to take _you_ into _my_ lap and let you cry out whatever this is,” replied Pippa calmly, slipping an arm around Hecate’s neck and expertly plying her fingertips into the gap between her companion’s shoulders, causing the dark haired witch to squirm and then relax, “but as I was entirely unlikely to be able to convince you how comfortable that would be in any conventional way, I thought I’d demonstrate.”

Hecate snorted softly and laughed with fresh tears, resting her forehead against Pippa’s collarbone. Tentatively she wrapped her arms around her friend, giving her a soft squeeze of approval. Pippa responded by giving Hecate’s tense muscles a few more prompting digs, stopping only once her captive had squirmed, given a few huffs indicating release from prior neck pain and resettled beneath her quietly once more.

“This is comfortable enough for me,” responded Hecate softly.

There was peace for a little time while Pippa’s fingertips played in the loose strands of hair at the base of Hecate’s scull. The blonde witch nuzzled the top of dark witch’s head with her nose and chin, sending out wave after wave of her own brand of soothing, modern magic into her companion’s trembling form. Hecate’s hands rested on Pippa’s waist, and Pippa watched with scholarly attentiveness as her companion finally closed her eyes and began to breath more slowly, growing content in their quietness.

“Now, Hiccup Hardbroom,” Pippa murmured to the top of Hecate’s head after a decent pause, “are you going to tell me what in Hades' name has been going on here, or am I going to have to summon some ice cream to tempt you out of your repose?” menaced Pippa, raising an eyebrow expectantly when Hecate raised her head in disbelief.

“Pippa,” said Hecate exasperatedly, hardly knowing what to say. “I just needed… some time?” she added uncertainly.

“That clearly isn’t the whole story, Hecate,” accused Pippa with a pout, brushing her hands caringly through Hecate’s hair. “A certain dark-haired apprentice has confessed to me something of her own part in the present saga.”

“I have been furious with Morgyn,” confessed Hecate with a sigh, resting her head back and looking up at the ceiling, “but, more and more, I have become even angrier with myself for not being able to explain to her why _I_ am the way I am.”

“I see,” murmured Pippa sympathetically, tucking away a loose strand of Hecate’s hair behind her ear affectionately.

“But then that wretched girl just had to go behind all our backs and redirect _an_ _entire competition_ in order to show off in front of the witchworld!” said Hecate, her tone clipped, her eyebrows knitted.

“I’m not sure that was her true intent,” counselled Pippa, shaking her head gently. “I think, knowing the Hubbles’ propensity for getting things _staggeringly_ wrong, Morgyn may really have only wanted _you_ to be able to see why this was so important to her.”

“And, so, she _forged_ her mother’s signature?!” cried Hecate, throwing her hands up in the air for a moment.

“I’m not saying I condone her actions, sweetling, but I am equally sure Julie Hubble has already had an _awful_ lot to say to her daughter on that particular subject,” Pippa pointed out pacifyingly.

“I don’t know that I even know _how_ to explain to Morgyn how serious her behaviour was,” said Hecate with a sigh. “She chose to flaunt her powers to enter this fayre, but she could easily have signed herself up to something more dangerous – and with Ms Hubble and myself both believing the other had given permission, who knows how it might have ended?”

“I think she sees already,” continued Pippa, rubbing Hecate’s arms gently. “She isn’t going to do something like this again,” said Pippa, “not now she sees how she’s distressed her materfamilias,” she added, smiling at Hecate’s unamused expression.

“As a matter of fact,” added Pippa, “I came up here to tell you that there’s a very sneaky little mouser downstairs who really has gone to a lot of effort to show the world how clever she can be, but at the moment she’s so terribly nervous she can’t string a sentence together.”

“Can escape otherworldly contractual obligations, dodge Fate’s devices and Death’s dominion, but can’t navigate an ordinary, witching craft fayre?” snorted Hecate, unimpressed.

“If fairness, sweet one,” Pippa said soothingly, “she’s been blessed with _you_ protecting and guiding her for a long time now. The daring, devious menace downstairs might have survived on her own, but she certainly wouldn’t have thrived, and I think this episode has made her painfully aware of it. But, Hecate, darling: thinking you’ll never, _ever_ forgive her this indiscretion and come back to watching over her is breaking her little heart.”

“I said nothing about _never_ forgiving her,” muttered Hecate, folding her arms defensively.

“You didn’t have to say it,” said Pippa gently, cupping Hecate’s chin and bringing Hecate’s gaze up to meet her own steady one, “the fact that you aren’t saying _anything_ is allowing her self-doubt to fill the silence.”

“What do you want me to do?” asked Hecate with a sign, unfolding her arms in defeat and pressing a hand gently to the small of Pippa’s back.

“I want you to be you,” said Pippa simply, smiling down at her and holding Hecate’s face with both hands.

“And how to I do that?” asked Hecate dubiously as Pippa’s thumbs rubbed her cheeks comfortingly.

“Drink tea with me, wash your face, recast your flawless make-up spell, and then come downstairs and see what that infuriatingly bright menace and her charming young friend have created,” replied Pippa with a little shrug.

Hecate glared at Pippa accusingly, feeling that there was more to it than this. Pippa laughed delightedly at her obvious distrust.

“And, then, between the two of us,” Pippa said conspiratorially, “we are going to make _sure_ that that darling girl understands - no matter how cross we are with her for her part in any recent inexcusable feats of magic, deceit and sheer, wanton deviousness - that _we_ will always stand by the witches who desire to create things for the love of the craft and our kind. Because she _is_ clever, Hecate, and kind-hearted, and incredibly blessed - not least because she has a guardian who’d march straight through Hades for her – and one day very soon I have no doubt she will invent something that will make us both weep for wonder,” asserted Pippa, bringing Hecate’s forehead to her lips and kissing it gently.

“And you can take that look of scepticism off your face, Hecate: she’s _your_ little cat, and the judging starts in fifteen minutes: so, now, to work - and let us show your wayward apprentice that _this_ lionheart has more than one kind of pride, hmm?” said Pippa smiling with indefatigable optimism as she playfully booped Hecate’s nose and slipped gracefully from the lap of her astonished companion.


	50. The Fayre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the great hall of Cackle's Academy, the Crafter's Quarterly Competition had begun in earnest.

_In the great hall of Cackle's Academy, the Crafter's Quarterly Competition had begun in earnest._

Around the room, witches and wizards of all ages and backgrounds were demonstrating their inventions at individual booths, and the hall was filled with the hum of conversation, punctuated with some loud and occasionally bizarre noises - generally accepted to be quite ordinary at Crafter’s Fayres.

“Roll up, roll up – witches and wizards, and prepare to be amazed,” called a middle-aged wizard, quite near to Morgyn and Roman’s booth, attracting the attention of nearby spectators.

“Okay, Morg, are you ready?” said Roman bracingly.

Morgyn nodded, swallowing hard and steeling herself. Together they waved their hands in the air and the light blue sheet flew off their station and created a canopy above them.

In spite of how wretched Morgyn was feeling, she could appreciate how well designed and planned their stall looked. A banner, shimmering with gold paint, kept re-writing itself and announced in bold lettering for all to see _“The Aeronaut – Transport Transformed!”._ The subheading read _“Accessibility Reimagined: The Aeronaut Mark I Utilises the Raw Potential of Elemental Magic - Giving the User Freedom to be Active on Ground Level and Beyond. Where There’s Oxygen, The Aeronaut Prospers!”_

Morgyn held Roman’s clipboard while he switched from his customary, if somewhat clunky, wheelchair and into their sleek, streamlined new creation. Sharing a nervous smile and an excited giggle, the pair began to show the world their invention.

There was no end to how eager people were about their work: Roman gave demonstration after demonstration to highlight the properties of the Aeronaut – swooping and cartwheeling-with-wheels stylishly above and around the other stalls to exhilarated shouts of encouragement from Morgyn and the Cackle’s girls.

Without injury or weakening of his own powers, Roman could go where he liked, however he liked and at whatever speed he pleased and Morgyn felt tears welling up in her eyes as she watched her dear friend having the time of his life.

Hector Penchant and Miss Cackle approached their stall, both beaming at the sight of the delighted inventor in the air, as he regaled the crowd with an entertaining monologue about how the Aeronaut might easily be used in dragon chasing.

“Oh, Morgyn, this is _wonderful_ ,” announced Miss Cackle, clapping her hands in sheer joy. “Bravo, dear, _bravo!”_ she added earnestly, tucking Morgyn under her arm and giving her a quick hug, causing more tears to spill down the teenager’s face.

A few minutes later, Morgyn could sense that Hecate was somewhere nearby. The prickling feeling on the back of her neck told her that her guardian’s eyes were most likely upon her. She couldn’t bring herself to turn around, to seek her out, though her heart desperately wanted to know if Hecate was alright, if she would show any signs of missing Morgyn too, or if she was still resolved to be distant with her apprentice.

Morgyn forced herself to focus hard on the witches and wizards in her immediate vicinity, answering their numerous questions as intelligibly and politely as she could, while Roman was demonstrating the finer features of The Aero to a journalist who had had the sense to summon their broomstick and was now conducting an interview in mid-air with Morgyn’s ecstatic co-inventor.

When there was a lull in questions for Morgyn to answer, and the spectators were admiring the aerodynamic swiftness of The Aero in a series of short races between it and the journalist’s broomstick, Morgyn could stand it no longer. She risked a quick, terrified glance over the crowd and felt her heart jump for joy when she saw two tall women, one dressed all in pink, the other all in black.

Morgyn breathed short, anxious breaths and swallowed hard, seeing Pippa’s delighted smirk of appreciation and her folded arms as she stood by Hecate’s side – murmuring something into the dark-haired witch’s ear. Hecate looked faintly interested by the proceedings, and her eyes were watching as Roman floated several meters above the crowd – being cheered relentlessly by several other inventors and the students from Cackle’s Academy and Pentangle’s Academy.

Hecate’s gaze fell on Morgyn and she looked at her carefully, questioningly. Morgyn glanced up at her co-inventor and then back at Hecate and chewed her lip, shrugging feebly as tears slid freely down her cheeks. Hecate inclined her head slightly, murmured something to Pippa, and gave the briefest of smiles to Morgyn before curled a thin hand elegantly and disappeared.

Morgyn let out the breath she had been holding and, for the first time in months, allowed herself a little smile.


	51. March (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgyn stood in polite, and stunned, silence in Miss Cackle’s office, while Miss Bat and Miss Cackle looked on in amazement as Egbert Hellebore highlighted his reasons for requiring Morgyn to visit Camelot again before the end of term.

_Morgyn stood in polite, and stunned, silence in Miss Cackle’s office, while Miss Bat and Miss Cackle looked on in amazement as Egbert Hellebore highlighted his reasons for requiring Morgyn to visit Camelot again before the end of term._

“Really, Ada,” His Grace was saying exasperatedly, “it’s not as though Miss Hubble _needs_ to sit these exams.”

“With respect, Your Grace,” said Ada firmly, “that is very _much_ what we intend for her to do.”

“Yes, yes, you have her following the curriculum,” sighed the Great Wizard, waving a hand in the air, “but you said it yourself – Morgyn’s magic is already more advanced than almost any child you’ve ever taught here.”

“That’s no reason to disadvantage her by not giving her the same opportunities as the other students,” put in Miss Bat, who was the current head of the Fourth Form.

“Very well,” sighed His Grace, “would you agree to it if I found a suitable tutor for Miss Hubble while she was in Camelot?”

“Morgyn has a tutor,” remarked Miss Cackle pointedly.

“Hecate seems to have tired of her,” remarked the Great Wizard, with a shrug.

Morgyn noted that Miss Cackle seemed to only just manage to bite her tongue in time to stop whatever retort she wanted to give to this statement. She could feel herself beginning to blush with embarrassment.

“Why do you need Morgyn to go to Camelot, now of all times, Your Grace?” queried Miss Bat sensibly, holding Morgyn’s shoulders protectively.

“There is a meeting of eminent scientists converging on the city next week. They will be attending a two-week conference, and I would like one or two of them to have the opportunity to examine Morgyn.”

“Miss Hubble is not a lab rat!” stated Miss Bat heatedly.

“Of course not,” sighed the Great Wizard exasperatedly, “this would be purely perfunctory – a display of magic, nothing invasive. May I remind you, Ada, that the girl is still under scrutiny from certain dissenters among the Council because of her past. This may be a perfect opportunity to prove them wrong.”

“Be that as it may, this is no decision to be taken lightly. I must first discuss it with Hecate, and of course Ms Hubble,” replied Ada firmly. “Morgyn, dear, you may go.”

Morgyn fled the office before Miss Cackle could change her mind, and mounted the stairs to her room three-at-a-time. When she arrived, she grabbed her cloak, her travel mirror and her skyboard and soared out of the window – flying gracefully up in the evening light to the second-highest turret.

“Esmerelda Hallow,” panted Morgyn, holding the mirror away from her face as she hid in the den.

“Hey, Morg,” said Esme’s voice in surprise, “two calls in one day, is it my birthday?”

“Hellebore’s downstairs, right now, trying to talk Miss Cackle into letting me go to Camelot,” panted Morgyn.

“For the summer again?” queried Esme, raising her eyebrows.

“No, like _soon,_ so that his cronies can do experiments on me,” cried Morgyn quietly.

“Morg, that wouldn’t be legal. You know the Code as well as I do.”

“I know, but he’s the Great Wizard,” exhaled Morgyn.

“Tell them no! Miss Cackle’s not going to force you,” reasoned Esme earnestly. “I thought she wanted you to sit your exams?”

“She does,” admitted Morgyn. “So does Miss Bat.”

“What about Hecate?”

“She wasn’t there. She’s still not meeting with me outside of class,” said Morgyn bleakly.

“You’ve got to talk to her!”

“I can’t! I can’t even tell her I have toothache, let alone that I think the Great Wizard is up to something.”

“You have toothache?” queried Esme, looking faintly amused.

“Wisdom teeth,” moaned Morgyn. “It’s a total nightmare, Es, honestly – I’m supposed to concentrate on books when my mouth feels like it’s got extra sharp edges!”

“Tell Hecate.”

“I can’t.”

“Tell her anyway.”

“Esme!”

“Morgyn-”

“I can’t bother her – I just can’t, Esme, you don’t understand how tense things have been here.”

“Fine, I’ll have a look for a recipe, but it will have to be tomorrow,” sighed Esme kindly. “I’m really sorry, I’ve got to go to work now. Try eating lots of ice cubes – that should numb the pain for a bit!”

“Laters, Es,” smiled Morgyn weakly.


	52. March (Part 2)

Morgyn was being tested rigorously on her Potions ability while Hecate compiled a report on her powers to send with her to Camelot next week for His Grace, and Morgyn was worn weary with the stress of it all.

She had recently suffered her fifth possession attack from the Underworld and, with the relationship between herself and Hecate still distant, she had foolishly leapt from her sick bed and cast a glamour charm to disguise her exhaustion while she hurried to practise her potions and spells.

Nothing, Morgyn felt, could be allowed to go wrong on this trip to Camelot – her relationship with Hecate would never recover.

“And the best course of action for restoring the balance of such an error in an advanced transmogrification is?” Hecate enquired, in the seemingly never-ending stream of questions.

“To treat it with… an infusion of chamomile and fennel,” Morgyn recited, her mind elsewhere as her teeth, head and muscles ached.

“Precisely. That will do, lunch is practically upon us. Do you have any questions, Miss Hubble?” asked Hecate, already rolling up her parchments, standing up and preparing to disappear.

“Yes,” said Morgyn hesitantly. “Would - would it be alright if I practised archery this week?” Morgyn stumbled out hastily.

“I beg your pardon?” replied Hecate icily, making a swift about-turn, her eyes narrowing immediately.

“I – I just have a bad feeling about these friends of Hellebore,” Morgyn mumbled, shoving her hands deep in her pockets.

“Many of them are exceptionally well-known and respected scientists,” Hecate countered, frowning.

“And the rest?” Morgyn asked plainly, looking up at Hecate. “Never mind, forget I said anything,” Morgyn added quickly, picking up her bag and preparing to scuttle away.

Morgyn had hardly taken two steps when Hecate appeared in front of her, frowning intensely.

“If you are concerned for your safety,” Hecate said, after a pause in which she stared down at the girl searchingly, “then you may be assured that no earthly power can harm you, not while you are in _my_ care,” she murmured, drawing a wide ring in the air and summoning up a small charm on a long chord, which settled itself around Morgyn’s neck.

Morgyn looked down at it, her eyes swimming with tears, and placed a hand around the achingly familiar token in relief and felt the unforgettable white-ish-gold magic stirring against her palm like a whisper.

“That will be all,” added Hecate, and Morgyn felt her disappear.

~

“How’s your mum?” asked Esme, the day before she was due to go Camelot.

Morgyn sighed and ran her hand through her hair distractedly before she answered. She was sitting on the floor in the stacks with her back against a dusty wall, far from the prying eyes of the librarian and the other students, talking to her friend using her pocket mirror.

“I think she’s alright, you know,” said Morgyn, “but I really can’t tell. Mildred’s going through some weird phase right now, where she’s a teenager but she still misses Julie every day but doesn’t feel like she can say it.”

“You don’t feel like that?” asked Esme, raising her eyebrows.

“I had it all so different growing up, Es,” said Morgyn quietly. “I love Julie, and now that she’s in my life, I’d do anything to keep her there, but I coped when I didn’t have her.”

“You still needed her, though,” said Es gently, “just for things you didn’t know you were missing.”

“Julie seems kind of distant with me right now,” sighed Morgyn. “I don’t know whether it’s because she thinks she needs to give me space, or because she’s still upset with me.”

“I doubt she’s upset with you,” reasoned Esme. “Your mother doesn’t hold grudges. Plus, she _adores_ you.”

“Hmm,” said Morgyn.

“No, not ‘hmm’, definitely,” said Esme firmly. “Maybe you need to talk to her about it.”

“How?”

“She’s your mum,” said Esme with a shrug, “if anyone would know, it’d be you.”

“How’s your mum?” asked Morgyn, pulling a little sad face.

“Still facing all sorts of enquiries about what she did to Miss Cackle,” said Esme, sighing. “Honestly, I’m just glad that Sybil and Ethel don’t see so much of it while they’re at school.”

“Ethel seems to still struggle with Mildred being liked,” said Morgyn.

“You mean she’s still a bully,” corrected Esme.

“But I really feel like Sybil’s coming out of her shell,” said Morgyn. “I heard her back-chat Miss Drill the other day.”

“Really? What happened?” asked Esme, perking up.

“Drill made her run an extra cross-country lap,” shrugged Morgyn.

“Character building,” they both snorted together.

“Has HB ever gotten around to deciding when you should learn to fly a broom?” asked Esme suddenly, when they had both finished laughing.

“No and, do you know, I’m not sure she will,” said Morgyn thoughtfully. “She actually sent Mildred and Indigo out onto the lawn the other day when I was on a free period to tell me to stop slouching when I’m boarding because I was making the firmament look untidy.”

Esme let out a small shriek of laughter.

“Her sassy comments,” remarked Esme fondly. “Has HB finally accepted the skyboard and its rider back into the fold, then?”

“We haven’t _quite_ formed our own coven,” replied Morgyn dryly.

“She is proud of you, you know,” said Esme sagely. “I know she’s not the best at showing it, but she’s definitely proud that you’re her marshmallow.”

“I’m not a-”

“Squishy, witchy marshmallow apprentice? Yes, you are. And you’re HB’s mushy marshmallow.”

“Esme-”

“Denial isn’t just a river in Egypt, Morgyn.”

“You’re infuriating when you’re like this.”

“Roman agrees with me. He’s still green with envy about your close links to such a famous literary sorceress though.”

“You two _need_ to get out more,” retorted Morgyn.

“They both love you, you know,” said Esme, her tone different.

“What, Roman?!” spluttered Morgyn.

“No, silly, your mum and Hecate.”

“Esme-”

“Denial, again, isn’t just a river-”

“And, if, as soon as I get my magic under control, Hecate cuts all ties?” retorted Morgyn. “I don’t know if I’d survive being driven away again, Esme – it’s hard enough with her still cross with me.”

“Morg, that would involve a) you actually getting your magic under control and b) you somehow convincing HB that you had achieved point a) to her incredibly high standards for your wellbeing and witching education,” reminded Esme. “Not to mention that you’d have to convince her you weren’t going to run off and get eighteen new piercings the minute her back was turned. Face it, Morg, you’re her marshmallow now for better or for worse.”

“But what about when I turn twenty-one?” said Morgyn uncertainly. “If I’m independent then, what if Hecate doesn’t want to see me anymore? What if Julie doesn’t either, for that matter?”

“Julie is your mother! And how many times has Hecate saved your life?” asked Esme.

“She’d do that for any witch she saw in distress,” pointed out Morgyn.

“How many times has she nursed you back to health?” continued Esme.

“Well-”

“How many times has she hollered your name across the room because you’re doing something that puts her favourite mushy marshmallow menace in danger?”

“Esme,” Morgyn groaned, rolling her eyes theatrically.

“I think you know, really, that if you’re that worried about it, you should speak to her yourself,” said Esme. “You’re tying yourself in knots, and you know how to set yourself free.”

“Hmm,” said Morgyn, a little depressed.

“I’ve got to head to class. Say hi to Mortal-Mum from me when you next call her, and get off your derriere and put your burning questions to Marshmallow-Mum today.”

“ _Esme!_ ”

“Ciao, bella!”

Morgyn put her pocket mirror back into her bag and rubbed her eyes. She was self-aware enough to note that, while she was amused by Esme's take on her life, she did feel in quite a low mood right now. Bravely, she got up and went in search of a glass of water.

As she padded along the hallway, she distantly saw Hecate towering over her sister and Indigo Moon, both of whom were looking windswept and interesting after a flying incident. Morgyn paused and watched Hecate in her Miss Hardbroom persona. Strangely, she found herself wanting to run along the corridor and throw herself between the three witches.

 _Why couldn’t they get along, thought Morgyn sadly. My sister and my marshma-_ tutor _(Esmerelda Hallow, get_ out _of my head) are constantly at loggerheads._

Waiting until Hecate had dismissed the two girls and transferred herself elsewhere, Morgyn closed her eyes and carefully stretched out her senses. She was so strong in the Surface World now that she could feel her way around the castle in a sonar-like way, locating the presence of other witches purely by the strength of their magical signature. She let her senses flutter over the peaceful staff room and sought out Hecate’s signature, but could not find it.

Frowning and concentrating hard, she moved her senses upwards and around the castle, checking all the usual places: Hecate’s office, the potions laboratory, Miss Cackle’s office, the Third-Year hangout spaces. Huffing a little with the effort, Morgyn stretched out, travelling up each tower one-by-one. Still not finding what she was looking for, she brought her senses down through the upper floors of the school, combing hopefully for a hint of white-gold.

Getting tired, Morgyn opened her eyes and let out a little huff of disappointment. Then she felt something or someone blow warm air on the back of her neck. She spun round to see Hecate viewing her with interest.

“What are you doing, Morgyn Hubble?” asked her tutor.

Morgyn didn’t want to be overheard. She looked up and down the hall and saw that no one was paying them any attention, before she took a step towards Hecate and lightly took hold of her upper arms, dissolving them both to the corridor outside Hecate’s office.

Hecate’s face registered surprise and she looked down at Morgyn searchingly. Morgyn flushed a little and looked at the door of Hecate’s office meaningfully. Hecate raised a hand and snapped her fingers, unlocking the office and opening the door.

“After you,” remarked her tutor, allowing Morgyn to walk in first, while the older witch’s eyes roamed over her small frame attentively.

Morgyn paced restlessly back and forth across the office floor as Hecate walked calmly to her desk and settled herself in the straight-backed throne.

“Morgyn Hubble,” said Hecate pointedly, breaking into Morgyn’s thoughts.

The girl looked at her and saw that the woman was indicating one of the chairs before her desk. Morgyn ran a hand through her hair and huffed a little distressed sigh, shaking her head to indicate that she wasn’t ready to sit down yet.

“I don’t think I feel very well,” said Morgyn, not sure how to go about this conversation.

“I see,” said Hecate, viewing her thoughtfully. “Have you caught an illness from the other students, do you think?” she asked reasonably.

“It’s not that kind of feeling,” said Morgyn, rubbing her eyes with the palms of her hands.

“No?” remarked Hecate calmly, leaning on the arms of her chair and settling herself in to listen to whatever Morgyn had to tell her.

“I- I-” Morgyn began, and then tried to swallow but found that her mouth was too dry.

While she tried to gather her thoughts, she paced the floor again. When she finally felt settled enough to look at Hecate again, she noticed that there was now a carafe of icy cold water with lemon sitting in the centre of Hecate’s table; a glass poured ready and waiting where Morgyn usually sat.

With a relieved sigh, Morgyn perched nervously opposite Hecate at last.

“What will happen, when I turn twenty-one?” Morgyn blurted out.

“Well, I imagine you will want some kind of appropriate gathering,” replied Hecate dubiously, raising an eyebrow.

“No, no, I don’t mean _that_ , I mean what will happen to _us_ when I turn twenty-one?” Morgyn clarified.

“Morgyn Hubble, how old are you now?” asked Hecate wearily, looking a little cross with her for plainly being so anxious about something so far in the future.

“Fourteen,” replied Morgyn meekly.

“Precisely. There is absolutely no way of knowing what will happen in seven years’ time,” said Hecate pointedly.

“But-”

“No,” said Hecate emphatically, holding up a finger for silence. “All I can say for certain is that, at this moment, I fully intend to see that you turn twenty-one as a responsible, law-abiding member of the witching world.”

“So, you're sure you won’t leave in the next seven years, at least?” asked Morgyn in relief, perking up.

“Morgyn Hubble, you _know_ that I made a blood enchantment with your mother,” reminded Hecate sternly. “If you require a witch’s guidance before your twenty-first birthday, then I am legally yours for that purpose. Now, is there anything that I ought to know, child?”

Morgyn thought about this for a moment: thought about her burning gums; her worries about visiting Hellebore; her exam stress; and how much she missed Julie, before shaking her head meekly.

“Then, you may go and wash your hands and face before dinner,” remarked Hecate, looking doubtfully at her apprentice, as she pulled some paperwork towards herself.


	53. March (Part 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I have added the prospectuses from several Sixth Form colleges, of which both Miss Cackle and I approve, for you to apply to – along with detailed instructions from your teachers about learning and revision for this month,” Hecate stated, sweeping into Morgyn’s bedroom with a large, neat folder of paperwork and a few textbooks balanced on one hand as the girl listlessly packed for her excursion to Camelot.

“I have added the prospectuses from several Sixth Form colleges, of which both Miss Cackle and I approve, for you to apply to – along with detailed instructions from your teachers about learning and revision for this month,” Hecate stated, sweeping into Morgyn’s bedroom with a large, neat folder of paperwork and a few textbooks balanced on one hand as the girl listlessly packed for her excursion to Camelot.

“Do I even _have_ to go to a college?” asked Morgyn, wrinkling her nose and quickly putting her hands behind her back so that Hecate couldn’t hand her the bundle. “Maybe I _know_ all that stuff already.”

Hecate’s infamous, sub-zero expression was the only reply Morgyn needed: the girl’s hands quickly came around and clasped the proffered bundle meekly.

“I don’t need any of these though, I’ll go to Witchester,” Morgyn announced boldly.

“You cannot make an important decision about your future solely because it may allow you to spend a little more time in Esmerelda Hallow’s company,” Hecate remarked knowingly, giving a little frown and beginning to remove items from the carpet bag her apprentice had been haphazardly throwing them into and waving a hand to send them to rest in neat piles on top of the bedspread instead.

“Why not?” demanded Morgyn, unconcernedly dumping a large box of tuck into the carpet bag, only for Hecate to take it out again and lay it aside. “If I can’t be with Mildred, I at _least_ want to be with Esme or Roman,” she asserted fiercely.

“Read each prospectus thoroughly, and we will discuss this again when you have completed the application forms for each of them,” Hecate counselled calmly, waving a finger and causing a pile of Morgyn’s socks and knickers to roll themselves up neatly and join the rest of her clothes on the bed. “Where are your hairbrush and comb?” Hecate asked vaguely, casting a searching glance around the room for them.

“But _Hecate,_ ” complained Morgyn, picking at the folder, “there must be _ten_ here – and I still have another whole year with Cackle’s first!” she whined.

“Twelve, and your mother and I agree that submitting your applications as soon as the season opens is the best course of action to alleviate the anxiety you will undoubtedly begin to feel about moving on,” corrected Hecate mildly, summoning Morgyn’s best boots from the wrack, wriggling her fingers to magically polish them, before placing them carefully in the base of the carpet bag. “Washbag?” she added, glancing at her apprentice.

Morgyn, unable to think of a fitting argument to go against Hecate’s wishes at present, stomped across the room, located her washbag, and held it out to Hecate with drilled obedience.

“Can’t I just do Witchester and one other?” wheedled Morgyn, still holding the pile of prospectuses apprehensively.

“You will present all twelve to Miss Cackle and I on your return,” replied Hecate calmly, summoning Morgyn a clean towel and flannel and tucking them into the bag.

“Maybe just _three_ then?” Morgyn tried hopefully, weighing up the heavy bundle in her arms.

“ _Twelve_ ,” replied Hecate, beginning to re-summon the now-flawlessly-folded clothes from the bed and organise them neatly into the bag.

“I’ll meet you half way,” Morgyn contested, coming round the bed and dodging under her spare hat as Hecate summoned it from the wardrobe and pressed it neatly on top of a pile of freshly laundered blouses. “Let’s say _six_ ,” she negotiated reasonably.

Hecate paused in her work, turned slowly, beckoning Morgyn nearer, and folded her arms.

“Let me put it this way,” Hecate mooted conspiratorially, leaning down until her face was level with her apprentice’s, “you will fill in each one of the dozen applications we have selected for you, or you can fly back to me in a few weeks and explain, in detail, just why you haven’t,” she murmured sincerely.

Morgyn dipped her head, her cheeks flushing a little.

“I’ll fill in the twelve of them,” conceded Morgyn at last, handing Hecate the bundle for it to be added to the bag.

“I’m glad to hear it,” remarked Hecate, turning away and summoning a few items that were still to be packed. “Will you be tying your hair up before you travel?” she added rhetorically, passing Morgyn’s comb to her over her shoulder.

Morgyn sighed resignedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooft, can anyone else say hiatus? Sorry about the long interlude, folks! Sickness and the Black Dog caught up with me.   
> Lots more to come, including Morgyn's stay in Camelot and more Cackle's shenanagins!


	54. Camelot, Revisited

_Morgyn woke early, with strong feelings of anxiety, her first morning back in Camelot._

Far from being the kind of day when she could meet Roman for breakfast pancakes, she was due to meet the Magical Minister for Medical Research at nine o'clock. Of this magician, Morgyn knew absolutely nothing. The Great Wizard hadn't been _guarded_ as to their identity as much as _inventively illusive_.

Morgyn crawled out of the comfortable four-poster bed and went to the window seat, looking out on the rambling, moss covered gardens of The Great Wizard's home. There was an uncomfortable ache in her stomach and she knew she was due to start her period again any day.

Wishing that she was home at Cackle's or with Julie, Morgyn hugged her knees and wondered what kind of month she could expect as the subject of a medical study. Would she have any say in the matter? Would she be permitted to ask questions? Could she say no to something she didn't want to do?

Worrying about all of this, Morgyn dressed herself and opened her bedroom window - deftly slipping onto her skyboard and sitting on it as it zoomed above the two-stripe lawn. It was early still, but Morgyn could tell it was going to be a scorcher of a day. She flew silently over the garden wall and above the cobbled roads outside, gazing without much interest at the crooked, stone built suburban houses of the city. She drifted on until she reached the riverbank where she and Roman visited on her first solo trip in the Surface.

Sitting on the riverbank, hugging in her knees and the stillness of the morning, Morgyn breathed in and out deeply and watched the rushing, gurgling water before her.

Uncertainty, Morgyn had come to see, was her least favourite entity.


	55. Under the Ministerial Microscope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Later that day, in mid-afternoon, there was a hazy, humid atmosphere over the town.

_Later that day, in mid-afternoon, there was a hazy, humid atmosphere over the town._

Morgyn squirmed in her chair again, feeling the heat oppressing her patience. She was in a long rectangular office, home to the Magical Minster of Health’s cold, clinical furniture, cold, clinical secretaries and cold, clinical stare but in spite of the chilly reception, the heat indoors was stifling and beads of sweat ran down Morgyn’s back beneath her blouse.

Along the corridors identical offices held similarly disinterested secretaries and similarly unfriendly Ministers going about with the same political, tactless seniority which so divided Morgyn from the man before her.

His name was Hebdon Garstairs, and it had taken him less than a minute to succeed in alienating Morgyn from his person. She disliked his eyes, weedy and grey as they were; she disliked his lips, dry and thin as they were; she disliked his suit, gangly and pinstriped as it was; but most of all she disliked his temperament and personality.

Garstairs had a flock of anxious underlings – a coven of younger physicians and magicians who scurried around him as he talked over Morgyn’s head. She drifted, feeling detached from her own body, from test to test and from place to place as they asked a hundred personal and strange questions each. They timed how long it took her to do certain activities, created statistics and discussed in whispers the raw data they extracted from their observations.

These were scientists, Morgyn reasoned, who had no interest in the worries and fatigues of a teenager's life. She felt _used_ , felt intuitively that this was the pattern her life would follow for the next month if she wasn’t careful, and did not relish the prospect.

Morgyn, never good at hiding her displeasure for long, sighed deeply at around one o’clock. Garstairs, observing impolitely that her response times were growing sluggish, called a halt to the activities and freed his underlings to attend a late lunch.

Garstairs, motioning a hand to one of his pristine secretaries, slithererd away to his internal office, leaving Morgyn without instruction. Moments later, two large and brawny, ham-fisted, ‘minders’ appeared – summoned by the secretary to keep track of Morgyn's whereabouts out-with the hours of Garstairs’ examinations.

Glaring at them suspiciously, Morgyn gritted her teeth and balled her fists, but walked from the room without comment and reminded herself that if she used a spell to bamboozle her minders, there was a certain dark-haired witch in a castle not _so_ far away who would have _a lot_ to say about it.

Ignoring the silent hulking magicians, Morgyn made her way downstairs and out into the courtyard of the Ministerial Palace. She didn’t ask permission from her taciturn companions before crossing the square and going through the archway to the streets beyond.

Morgyn sat on the pavement a little while later, sadly eating a rolled-up crepe and wishing that Roman would appear and join her. Snacks in good company are always more favourable. She strained her ears, stretched out her magical senses, and tried to search for him in this unfamiliar part of the town.

Her magic was confused, unsettled, and she only succeeded in giving herself a headache.


End file.
